


Charades: Part Two

by omphalos, Wolfling



Series: Of Old Mystics [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Epic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Post-Canon, Romance, Schmoop, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphalos/pseuds/omphalos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles and Ethan deal with issues of responsibility, duty, destiny and their own significance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of Old Mystics was originally published regularly between May 2003 - March 2005. The story begins some months after the end of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, season 7. Charades is the fourth volume of the epic saga, and we have split it into unequal halves to allow for the insertion of the Christmas Special -- Five Gold Rings -- at the right place.

It was the calm before what Ethan hoped would be a very pleasant storm. It was late afternoon, Christmas Eve, and any moment now, Megan would be home. Later on, Xander would arrive with Kat, back from Devon, and tomorrow would bring Buffy and Dawn to their door as well.

Downstairs, there was a plump goose taking up far too much of the fridge, considering the silly amount of other food also fighting for chilled space. Masses of mince pies that he and Megan had made together – _without_ setting fire to anything - were in a tin on the kitchen counter. The tree was shiny and surrounded by far too many gifts, and there was half an off-licence's worth of good wine and beer hidden around the house. Everything was as close to perfect as Ethan could actually imagine.

Especially his husband, lying naked beside him in the bed and still asleep after Ethan had given him, hopefully, one of the best sexual experiences of his life. Rupert was beautiful, and Rupert was his. Ethan leant over and kissed the sleeping man softly. He didn't really want to wake him, but thought he ought to before Megan made it home.

Rupert stirred slightly under the attention, sleepily kissing Ethan back before his eyes flickered open.

"It's getting late, dearheart," Ethan told him softly. "And on Christmas Eve, we shouldn't really let Megan come home to an apparently empty house."

"Mmm..." Rupert lifted a hand and lazily combed his fingers through Ethan's hair. "You're right." He yawned. "Guess that will have to do for a nap."

Despite sincerely wanting to be downstairs for Megan's return, Ethan found he couldn't actually resist Rupert's lips. He kissed them again, with small nips and longer presses, and he darted the tip of his tongue across where they parted.

Rupert chuckled and pulled back. "Keep that up and we won't be going anywhere."

Ethan smiled. "Do try not to be so devastatingly attractive then, my dear." He pressed more kisses across Rupert's face. "It's hardly my fault when you look so provocative now, is it?" He licked and nibbled gently up the side of Rupert's neck. "No court in the land would convict me." And finally, he took a tempting earlobe into his mouth and began to suck on it.

"This isn't exactly encouraging me to get up," Rupert pointed out. "At least not in any way that would lead to us being downstairs when Megan gets back."

Ethan was still wearing trousers under the covers, having been so concentrated on Rupert's pleasure earlier that his own hadn't mattered. Now however he was beginning to feel the lack. He wriggled down in the bed and pressed himself against Rupert's hip, while still sucking on the earlobe, poking the tip of his tongue into the old piercing there.

"Ethan..." Rupert sighed, skimming his hands down Ethan's torso. "Am I supposed to be talking you into or out of this?"

Ethan groaned in frustration. He released Rupert's earlobe. "Sorry. You're right. Perhaps in many hours from now when we go to bed I could maybe, um, 'get some'?" He ran a finger over Rupert's ear as he asked. Then he frowned slightly. "I think this piercing is still open, dearheart."

"It is. At least it was four years ago. I, um... tried playing guitar in a coffeehouse and thought an earring would go with the image I was trying to project."

That brightened Ethan's mood right up. He rolled back and raised himself on his elbow, grinning. "I don't suppose you still have the earring, do you? It would go smashing with a certain leather jacket." The image his imagination dutifully provided certainly wasn't helping quell Ethan's arousal levels, of course.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Rupert smiled. "And I suppose you want me to go find it and put it on right now."

Ethan felt his grin stretch wider still. "Oh, yes, please."

"All right, but don't think you can talk me into everything this easily." Rupert got up and crossed to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Ethan was distracted by watching Rupert's naked form as he rummaged in the top drawer for a moment, before turning back to the bed with a small box in his hand.

Sitting up, Ethan welcomed Rupert back into bed beside him. Looking at the box, he asked, "Is it a posh earring then? Gold?"

"Silver actually," Rupert replied, opening the box. "Believe it or not, my grandmother left it to me."

"In her will?" Ethan asked, curious. There was a heavy silver hoop in the box about half an inch in diameter. He held his hand out, hoping he would be allowed to put it into Rupert's ear himself.

"Not exactly. There was a letter left for me with her barrister together with her will, but not part of it. The earring was in the envelope with it." Obligingly he held the box out to Ethan.

"What did the letter say?" Ethan asked as he picked up the hoop and turned it over in his fingers. There were strange, and strangely familiar, markings etched into the metal...

Suddenly, he threw the earring down on the covers and scooted back across the bed. He felt like he had seen a ghost.

"Ethan?" Rupert frowned in concern, reaching out to him. "What–?"

"What did the letter say?" he asked again, a lot more urgently. He allowed himself to be gathered close and reached out some very tentative fingers towards where he'd thrown the earring. Had he made a mistake? Was he misremembering?

Rupert looked at him in a combination of worry and puzzlement, but answered the question easily enough. "That she'd been holding onto the earring to give me when the time was right, and that she was sorry that she wouldn't be around when that happened. That there was a story behind it, and she hoped with all her heart that I would some day learn it. I tried to research it, but beyond finding out that the markings on it are Romany in origin, I wasn't able to find out anything."

Ethan turned the retrieved hoop over in shaking fingers. "It's a vitality charm."

"You've seen this kind of thing before?"

Ethan laughed softly, his gaze still affixed to the earring. "I've seen _it_ before. It was my nan's. Probably her grandmother's before her."

"Yours? Then how did my..." Rupert looked at him, eyebrow slightly raised. "Why do I have the feeling that I'm about to learn the story that my grandmother talked about?"

Ethan moved closer, badly needing skin to skin contact before starting this particular retelling. "Randall died in early December, and you left." He sighed heavily, knowing now what a huge ballsed up misunderstanding that had been. "I'm sure neither of us had a very good Christmas that year, but do you remember the one after that? A year on from it all?"

Rupert wrapped his arms around him as he answered. "I spent it in the city, with my family. At my grandmother's townhouse. It was... better than spending it alone."

"You looked happy enough when I saw you."

"Yes, well, I'd always been rather adept at playing the dutiful..." Rupert trailed off with a frown. "You saw me?"

It hurt a surprising amount to remember this, considering how long past it was and how different things were now. "I was lost, losing it, without you. Deirdre told me you were in London. I made her cut my hair short, and I threw out all my make up and put on the dullest clothes I could force myself to wear. Then I came to see you. The earring was to be a Christmas present." He snorted softly. "Last sincere gift I ever tried to give until Megan's owl pendant."

"My grandmother stopped you." It wasn't a question.

Ethan nodded, looking up at Rupert and knowing that his pain must show. "She... she was almost kind, really, but adamant that I would hurt you, were you to see me." He frowned suddenly. "Do you think she knew?"

"With my grandmother, it wouldn't surprise me at all. She seemed to have all sorts of strange bits of knowledge. She was the one who introduced me to the coven in Devon actually." Rupert sighed and leant his forehead against Ethan's. "If I had seen you... I was lonely all the time, even when surrounded by my family. The magic and what happened to Randall still scared me, but I missed you. If I'd seen you that Christmas, I wouldn't have turned you away."

Ethan clasped his empty hand tightly over his mouth. He blinked furiously and looked beseechingly at Rupert.

Rupert pulled him tight against him. "I kept the earring because it felt special somehow. I thought that was just because it came from my grandmother, but..." He sighed again. "Maybe, some part of me recognised it was from you."

Skin to skin with Rupert, Ethan forced himself to take some deep breaths. Then he asked, "Will you wear it for me tonight?"

Slowly, making a production of it, Rupert leant in and kissed him. "I'll wear it whenever you want me to."

Ethan relished every moment of the kiss. When their lips slipped apart, he moved, shifting so that he could get easily to Rupert's ear. With fingers that weren't actually shaking too much, he pushed the stalk through the piercing and closed the hoop on the other side. Then he just looked at his husband. "Baxt hay sastimos tirry patraggy," he murmured, not sure what it meant or even if he was remembering it correctly, only knowing that Nan had frequently said it to him as some kind of blessing.

Rupert smiled at him, one hand lifting to touch the earring. "It's a few years late, but thank you for the gift," he said solemnly. They gazed at each other.

Ethan only realised that he'd been losing himself in Rupert's eyes when Gwydion barked downstairs, causing them both to jump slightly. Then there was the noise of the front door opening. "Bugger."

Regretfully, Rupert let go of him and stood up, reaching for his trousers and quickly beginning to dress. "I'll go down and meet her," he told Ethan quickly. "You clean up in here and then join us?"

Ethan nodded, grateful for a few moments alone to calm down in. "I'll hide all the incriminating evidence away."

"Thank you. Some presents I really don't want to have to explain to Megan or the others." Rupert finished dressing and headed off downstairs.

Ethan pulled his shirt on and set about tidying up the bed, restoring the handcuffs to the box of delights Rupert had given him and returning that and the silk scarf to their warded drawer. After straightening up the covers, he picked up the cuddly fox and badger from the side unit and sat on the bed, smiling at them.

Resisting the impulse to make the toys act out something obscene, he instead just held them as he thought about the earring and that day a lifetime ago. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Rupert's grandmother had known at least something about the destiny he and Rupert now knew they shared. Perhaps his own nan had known something too; she'd been a witch, after all. At least according to his dad's choice line in slurs, anyway.

Every time the events of the last few months had forced Ethan to reassess his view of the past, it had left him shaken, and perhaps he should have been used to it by now. But there was something powerfully numinous about this particular history, something that felt almost like the stuff of folktales. As he straightened up the bedding, he decided he wanted Rupert to wear the earring all the time to help keep him safe and well. He also decided that, come the new year, he was going to find out once and for all what had really happened to his nan and why and to where she had been taken away.

Nodding to himself, he stood and put the two toys between the pillows, side by side. Then, changing his mind at the last moment, he lifted the badger and made it look like it was humping the fox. Sniggering, he turned and headed downstairs.

He found Megan and Rupert hovering near the slightly open door of the study. Both of them turned around when they heard his approach, the door being pulled shut behind them. There was no sign of Giddy, so presumably they'd shut the wolfhound in the other room. "Did the monster offend somehow?" he asked, bemused.

Megan was smiling broadly at him and almost bouncing on her heels. Rupert was more sedate, but Ethan knew him well enough to know when he was hiding something. Before Ethan could ask, Rupert came forward, smiling at him. "I want you to sit on the sofa, love, and close your eyes."

Another present? Ethan rubbed at his face and felt strangely nervous; it was obviously something to be considered a 'big deal', judging by the way that the two of them were behaving. Obediently, he went to sit down, but he couldn't quite make himself close his eyes. He turned in his seat and stared at the person most likely to betray the secret – Megan. "What's going on?"

It was Rupert who answered. "You'll find out as soon as you close your eyes. Trust me." And so, of course, Ethan had to. Straightening back up on the seat, Ethan closed his eyes and tried to be patient.

He heard the study door open again, and Rupert's footsteps crossing the room over to him a few seconds later. Then something soft, warm and squirmy was placed in his arms. "You can open your eyes now," Rupert told him.

Ethan stared down in amazement at the black and white bundle of fur with a Christmas bow attached to its collar. "You got me a skunk!"

"Unfortunately, they were all out of skunks," Rupert said with a smile. "I'm afraid you'll have to settle for a puppy instead."

The amazement started to settle down into, well, more embarrassingly strong emotions. Rupert had got him a puppy. Because his one and only pet as a child had been run over and because he'd refused to admit he'd wanted a dog of his own, but Rupert knew better. The dog, his dog, had beautiful golden eyes full of intelligence, and it – no, she, his pattern senses told him - was staring at him as if waiting for something.

"Hello, Skunk," he said weakly and patted her head.

Skunk yipped as if answering him, wagging her tail so hard, her entire body wriggled.

"She knows her name," he pointed out, aware there was a big stupid grin on his face and completely unable to modify it at all.

"Actually her name's–" Megan began, but was cut off by Rupert.

"Of course she does," he said, sitting down beside Ethan. "She's quite an intelligent animal. I wouldn't get you anything less."

Ethan moved his hands through the puppy's coat. "This is where the three of you went that day, isn't it? Where did you find her? Does Giddy like her? Oh..." The 'oh' was because he'd just allowed his vision to slip completely into the pattern sense mode. Skunk was linked to him, the way Gwydion was linked to Rupert.

"She was one of the dogs that passed the magic sensitivity tests Battersea does for the Council, and even among those dogs, she stood out. She and Gwydion seemed to become fast friends from the second they saw each other, and she seemed to be taking direction from Gwydion during the test I administered." Rupert smiled. "So yes, I did have an inkling that she was a bit out of the ordinary. Like you."

Every time Ethan felt like it was impossible to love Rupert more than he did, that he'd reached the limit of his capacity for the emotion, Rupert would do or say something that would reveal uncharted depths of feeling still to be plundered. Ethan would dive further down, of course, willing and eager. After staring at Rupert for a few moments, trying to convey with his eyes just how very grateful and in love he felt, he grinned. "I have a puppy! I need to start teaching her mischief immediately. There's so much she has to learn."

"Just be aware that you will be cleaning up any mischief she gets into," Rupert told him drily, reaching out a hand to scratch behind Gwydion's ears. The dog was sitting quietly beside him.

Ethan looked back at Skunk, who was still staring at him avidly with her golden eyes. "You're going to be a proper little hellion, aren't you, dear," he said approvingly and heard Megan giggle. Skunk barked and scrabbled up his chest to lick his face. He didn't stop her, but he did turn to one side, facing Rupert. "An indoor dog, I think," he said seriously.

Rupert looked back at him, complete understanding in his eyes. However, his answer wasn't exactly what Ethan wanted to hear. "She's going to grow a bit big for that," he told Ethan regretfully. "But we'll keep her on a lead anytime we're going close to a road."

While Ethan knew Rupert was right, he didn't like it.

Rupert's silver earring caught Ethan's eye. The Christmas he had spent after handing it over to Grandmother Giles had been the worst of Ethan's life. He'd deliberately set fire to their old bedsit in a fit of self-destructive rage and despair, and he'd spent Christmas Eve going from house to house, systematically destroying every friendship he'd had left, ensuring none of the old gang would ever speak to him again. Christmas day and several days afterwards had been spent huddled in a stupor of drink, drugs and hypothermia with the tramps under the Embankment.

He'd finally emerged, born anew, on New Year's Day. It was the festival of Janus, the Ancient Roman numen of doorways and decisions, of new beginnings. and in an intense private ceremony, he'd dedicated himself to the Trickster spirit and the worship of Chaos. Because nothing else had mattered anymore.

The memories were ice shards in his soul.

But now, after all this time, here he was. The gas fire crackling in the hearth warmed his body as his family around him melted even the memory of ice inside. With his hands in Skunk's fur, Ethan shut his eyes and let himself see again the reassuring cords that bound him to Rupert, his other half. Not just a trite phrase in this case, but a fundamental truth.

Ethan gathered together all the warmth, love and adoration he was feeling for Rupert and held tightly onto it for a few seconds, thanking whatever benign deity or forces existed for giving him this day. Then he fed it in a stream through their bond for Rupert to share, and he sent into Rupert's mind, _'You are my sun returned. I love you. Happy Christmas.'_

***

Giles came awake slowly, and for the first few minutes just lay there, relishing his life. Curled up against his side and half-sprawled over him lay his lover, who still seemed deeply asleep. No wonder, Giles thought a bit smugly, given the thorough loving he'd given Ethan the night before.

Just the thought of how Ethan had gasped and whimpered, trying to keep quiet while Giles had done his best to drive him crazy, was enough to make Giles want to do it all again, and not seeing any reason why he shouldn't, he began running his hands, lightly dusted with his magic, over Ethan's skin, seeking out those places he knew were the most sensitive.

Ethan whimpered softly in his sleep, starting to twitch and stir. Giles smiled and ran his fingers down between Ethan's buttocks.

With a tiny gasp, Ethan tensed and woke, raising his head to look at Giles, at first reproachfully, but then with a familiar naughty little smile starting to form. He blinked sleepy eyes and wiggled back against the touch of Giles' fingers. "Morning seems to have broken."

"It does indeed," Giles agreed, one finger brushing against Ethan's opening before pushing just a little way in.

Ethan took a shuddering in-breath, his eyes flickering shut again. "Oh. Oh, this is nice," he said dreamily.

"It gets better." He added another finger.

A soft moan was followed by Ethan moving, pulling up under him the leg that was on the bed so that his arse was raised. "You're right. General improvement there."

"I usually am right," Giles observed, sending a bit more magic through his fingers. "At least when it comes to you."

"Ahh..." Ethan's neck arched back as he gasped. "Yes... yes, you're very astute. Perceptive even." He wriggled some more, squirming against and half over Giles' body in a manner Giles found almost irresistible. "Are you by any chance planning on a spot of pleasant buggery this Christmas morn?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes. What do you think?"

"I think I can't imagine a better way to start the proceedings."

Giles let more magic trail from his fingers as he added another to Ethan's body, loving the way he could make him shudder and gasp with the slightest movement. "It was an excellent way of ending the proceedings last night."

Ethan was still well lubed from said proceedings, Giles' fingers slipping slickly through the tight muscle. Moaning and writhing, Ethan rubbed himself against Giles and then pushed back into the fingers again. "Please. Take me."

"That is the general plan." With his free hand, he nudged Ethan, encouraging him to straddle him.

It took no more encouragement than that. Ethan lifted himself and surged sideways, slipping from Giles' fingers in order to move above Giles' waiting cock, where he paused, waiting. The dark eyes gazing into Giles' were filled with lust and love.

Giles held Ethan's gaze as he tightened his grip around Ethan's hips and pulled him down onto his cock, Giles' breath catching as he slid inside.

Ethan bared his teeth in reaction, tipping his head back, then slowly straightening up until he was sitting upright, Giles' length as deeply imbedded as it could be within Ethan's body. "You're right," Ethan acknowledged with a grin, his heavy breathing belying the casual tone he was trying to assume. "This is decidedly pleasant."

"Only pleasant?" Giles braced his legs against the mattress and thrust his hips upward.

The movement almost knocked Ethan forward again, and he gasped despite his attempt at nonchalance. He put his hands on Giles' chest to balance himself, but then began to caress it with broad strokes. "I'd need more to be able to judge, I think."

Giles pushed up again. "Greedy," he accused.

"Appreciative," Ethan corrected and squeezed his internal muscles. He let magic sparkle from his fingertips as he dragged his hands back down Giles' chest and straightened again. "Want to see how appreciative?"

Nerves still tingling from Ethan's magic, Giles nodded. "I think you should definitely show me how appreciative," he said, voice taking on that deeper tone it always did when there was sex involved.

Ethan grinned evilly and bent his head down. After lifting his hands from Giles' body, he slowly dragged them up his own thighs, while gazing at Giles from below his brow. He squeezed his arse muscles again before asking, "This illustrative enough?" as he took his cock into both hands.

Giles felt a low growl rumble up from deep in his chest as he watched Ethan, and he levered himself up enough to be able to kiss Ethan roughly. "Wanton."

Ethan giggled a little as their lips parted. "This wanton wants more."

Running his hand down Ethan's chest and stomach, Giles closed his own hand around both of Ethan's where they were stroking his cock. "You always do."

Apparently too impatient to wait for Giles to start moving again, Ethan began to rock his own hips. Giles could feel Ethan's hands squeezing under his. "Please, Rupert," he said, really quite earnestly. "I don't want slow."

"Maybe I do," Giles said, straining up to kiss Ethan again. "Maybe I want to watch you... be appreciative for as long as I can."

"Tell me what you see?" Ethan asked, increasing his rocking, although it was still a relatively gentle motion.

Giles looked up at Ethan, trying to find the words to describe him like this. What he finally ended up answering with was, "My heart."

Ethan's eyes closed, and he smiled. "Not quite the erotic word picture I was expecting, but–" he paused in reaction to something, his breath held for a few seconds. "But lovely to hear nonetheless. Please?"

"What do you see?" Giles asked, suddenly curious, even as he tightened his grip around Ethan's hands on his cock, providing more friction as they slowly moved in concert.

"Ohh..." Ethan's eyes were still closed as he moaned and rocked. He pulled one of his hands out from under Giles' and placed it on top instead. "See for yourself, dearest," he murmured, and then Giles' world changed around him as he was gifted the pattern sight once more.

"Oh," Giles breathed, unconsciously echoing Ethan as he saw the reality of their bond flare into visual life around them. The colours were the same as the last time Ethan had shared his vision with him, but where before they had been restricted to strong bands between them, now they were flaring out all around, like an aura or inner glow.

Every movement either of them made caused fluxes and surges, and when magic was involved the colours deepened. "It's getting better all the time," Ethan said with a little awed laugh. "Before our agreement to... ohh... stop fighting the bond, it was hardly there. Now... God, Ripper... everything we do seems to strengthen it."

"I suspect especially if I do something like this," Giles said, thrusting his hips upwards at the same time he sent sparks of magic through his fingertips and along the length of Ethan's cock.

Giles' suspicion proved true enough, although Ethan didn't seem to be in the right frame of mind for scientific experimentation. "More. Ripper, please. I need more."

"Greedy," Giles accused again, before pulling Ethan down and taking his mouth once more in a possessive kiss that bordered on the brutal. 'Mine,' he sent with his thoughts, the word a growl even there as he rocked upwards into Ethan once more.

Ethan had had to let go of his cock to balance himself on the bed while Giles ravaged his mouth, but he left his other hand on Giles' and the pattern sight remained. Ethan moaned and writhed. 'Yes, yours. Always. Please, more,' he sent barely coherently. 'Need more. Need you. Please.'

'You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?' Giles slid his free hand up over Ethan's chest. His fingers brushed against a nipple then pinched it hard. 'Beg me for anything?'

Ethan tensed at the pain, moaning into the kiss. 'Yes, anything. Anything. Please.'

Giles made a sudden move and rolled them over until Ethan was lying on his back. Giles then started fucking him, hard and rough, adding a burst of magic with every thrust. And as somehow Ethan's hand had still remained on his, he was able to watch how each movement now made their bond flare brightly.

Ethan's legs wrapped tightly around Giles' back as he groaned and whimpered under the onslaught. "Yours, yours, yours, yours," he muttered, his head tossing from side to side. He seemed almost delirious.

 _'Always,'_ Giles sent, claiming Ethan's mouth again. _'I'll not give you up. You're mine. Forever.'_

A rumble built rapidly from deep in Ethan's chest, quickly turning into a wail against Giles' mouth. Giles felt Ethan's cock, trapped between their sweat-slicked bodies, twitch as Ethan himself tensed and shuddered, and then there was a wash of warmth across his belly. The colours of the bond glowed red-gold and flared so brightly that the image threatened to burn into Giles' retinas.

It was such an intense experience that his own climax, when it came a moment later, was almost an afterthought.

It was many minutes later that Ethan's legs finally fell to the bed, and Giles lost the pattern sight as Ethan raised a shaky hand to push his hair back from his brow. Ethan's voice also held more than a slight tremble as he said, "Have to say I'm liking Christmas so far."

Giles chuckled and kissed him once more, before regretfully pulling out and rolling over onto his back beside Ethan. "We'll have to make that a new tradition."

"Well, one thing's for sure. You'll have no trouble keeping me out of the kitchen. I don't think I can walk."

Reaching out, Giles ran a hand lightly down Ethan's chest. "Does that mean I'm going to have to carry you downstairs?" he teased.

Ethan giggled. "Well, perhaps to the shower."

"Which, I fear, would only lead to more... activity of the kind we've already experienced this morning." Smiling, he rolled over onto his side and kissed Ethan again. "Happy Christmas," he said softly, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Ethan's face.

Ethan smiled contentedly up at him. "Happy Christmas." His expression changed suddenly as he obviously remembered something. "Oh... Skunk! I want my puppy!"

Giles chuckled again, loving the eager, open expression on Ethan's face. "She was a good gift choice, I take it." He already knew the answer, but he couldn't resist asking anyway.

Surprisingly perhaps, Ethan answered seriously. "She's a huge gamble, or seems it to me, but she's a delight, and I'm very grateful, Rupert. Thank you."

"I promise I'll do everything in my power to help keep her safe," he vowed, knowing the fears Ethan had of history repeating itself.

Ethan kissed him softly, but then drew back and grinned. "Puppy! Now!"

"Dear lord, you're going to be a terror today, aren't you?"

Trying unsuccessfully to repress his laughter, Ethan kicked his heels on the bed and wailed, "Puppy!" From the other side of the closed bedroom door came an answering bark. "Skunk!" Ethan announced and rolled over, more or less slithering from the bed, then crawling across the floor to the door.

"Oh for..." Giles got up and quickly overtook Ethan, leaning down to pull him up.

Ethan stood up, but slumped limply on Giles, giggling. "Am I being bad?" he said in a voice that clearly already knew the answer.

"What is the old saying? If you have to ask..."

"It's entirely your fault," Ethan told him, his hand stretching out for the door handle. "You did this to me."

"I turned you into a demanding child?" Giles wasn't able to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Ethan's grin was broad and not a little wicked. "Shagged all the sense out of me, dearheart." He pushed down the handle and open the door just wide enough for the two puppies to come bounding in.

And they kept bounding and bouncing around until Giles ordered Gwydion to sit. Skunk continued for a few seconds, until Gwydion barked at her, and then she dropped back on her haunches beside the larger dog.

Ethan scowled. "You don't have to do what the big monster tells you, dear," he told his dog. Skunk seemed to look at Ethan uncertainly, for all the world like she was processing what he was saying. "Unless it's to do with roads. Then you do," Ethan went on. "Or railways lines... or anything electrical... or, well, actually do what he says most of the time unless he's just being a Watcher's pet." Which very stupid pun put Ethan into fits of laughter again. Giles was beginning to wonder if Ethan was high.

Now Gwydion was looking at Ethan uncertainly as well, although less like he was trying to understand what he was saying and more like he was trying to figure out when Ethan had lost his sanity.

"Do I need to go dunk your head a few times to sober you up?" Giles asked, torn between amusement and exasperation.

Ethan forced a deep breath in, pulling back from Giles and attempted a penitent look. "Sorry. I'm possibly a little over-excited," he said meekly, head down so Giles couldn't actually see his expression. "I'll go to the shower now and–" There was a noise that Giles strongly suspected of being a badly repressed giggle. "And clean up my act."

Ethan grabbed his bathrobe from the hook on the door, threw it on, then marched down the landing to the bathroom, Skunk at his heels.

Giles watched him go, then sighed. "I have the feeling this is going to be quite the interesting day," he said to his dog. Gwydion looked up at him and seemed to agree.


	2. Chapter 2

Giles got dressed and headed downstairs, thinking that if a shower didn't bring Ethan back down to earth, then perhaps coffee would. Besides, someone had to start breakfast for the rather full house they were expecting.

He was more than a little surprised to find Kat, who'd been sharing Megan's room, already down there, the coffee brewing and a selection of breakfast foods on the counter ready to cook. She grinned at him as he walked in, a strand of azure blue hair dropping from the rough knot on top of her head to fall before her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Giles!"

"Happy Christmas, Kat," Giles replied with a smile. "You're up early."

"I can never sleep Christmas Eve, ever since I was a kid, and anyway, your neighbours are really noisy." She waved her hand at the food on the counter. "What d'you guys want for breakfast?"

Ignoring the comment about 'neighbours', Giles listed their usual choices on days when they had time for a leisurely breakfast. Then he moved to the other counter to get Gwydion's morning meal ready. "Would you like some help?"

"Nah. Let me do this, Giles, seeing as you and Megan are in charge of the big meal."

"Your job will be at least as challenging," Giles replied, putting his dog's dish on the floor, which Gwydion immediately buried his head in. "You get to distract Ethan so he doesn't decide he wants to help."

She flexed her arms. "Slayer strength here. He won't get near the kitchen."

Giles had a sudden image of Kat tackling Ethan to the floor less than a foot from the kitchen door and had to swallow inappropriate laughter. Perhaps Ethan wasn't the only one feeling a little... under the influence after this morning's activities.

"So," Kat started suspiciously casually as she laid the tomatoes, mushrooms and rashers of bacon out on the grill tray – the proper British way, Giles was pleased to note. "I guess you've all been too busy to miss me."

"You would be guessing wrong then," Giles replied easily. "Of course we've missed you."

She flashed a grateful smile at him. "I thought I'd be coming back more often, but the training's been real intensive, and most of the weekends, the last thing I wanna do is travel. And Xander likes Devon, of course."

"Yes, he does seem to be spending a lot of time down there recently," Giles observed in his driest of tones, keeping the smile from his face.

Another grin was flashed, this one somewhat cheeky. "He says the sea air is good for him."

"I'm sure he does. Sea air that is made all the better due to the presence of a certain Slayer."

She didn't answer that, but Giles could tell she was pleased. He watched her potter about, efficiently putting together all the pieces of what looked to be a truly luxurious English breakfast. "How's Megan been?" she asked quietly. "I know she says she's fine, but we were kinda worried."

"She's been a bit... quiet these last couple of weeks, but she seems to be throwing herself into the festivities."

"Xander and I are gonna try hard to, y'know, not be too couple-y. She'd hate it if she knew we were doing that, but..." Kat gave Giles an uncomfortable look. "Wouldn't seem fair making a big deal out of us being a, uh, 'us'."

Giles raised an eyebrow. "You don't think she'll notice what you're doing?"

Kat looked uncomfortable, but insisted, "Not if we balance it right." She broke eggs into the pan and started to fry them. "Giles, is everything okay here? Not just Megan, I mean. Everything."

There was something about the tone of her voice that made Giles think she had a reason to ask. "Why?"

She half-shrugged. "It's just that everyone in the Coven seems all... antsy."

Interesting. "There has been an increase in chaotic incidents," he admitted. "Just small things, really. But more than is usual."

She paused in buttering the toast long enough to give Giles an uneasy look. "Guess I'd better work even harder on my studies."

"How are those going?" Giles said, taking the opportunity to change the subject. He really wanted to put the Prophecy and all the rest of that aside for today.

Beaming, Kat told him, "Really good! Even the theory. You'd be proud of me, Giles. I'm, like, writing essays and stuff. I still like the practical best though." She turned back to the plates, arranging food upon them, but although Giles could no longer see her face, her expression was obvious from her enthusiastic tone. "They've been letting me work with real patients, under supervision of course. But... I'm really helping. Not in a huge way, but I make a difference. That feels really bloody good." She used the British swearword apparently without self-consciousness.

"I'm glad to hear that," Giles replied, smiling at her in approval. "I'm sure your brother would have been very proud."

That won him another gratifying grin. "Mary and I have talked about Kevin sometimes. Being a healer means seeing a lot of death, she says. She says you get to see it differently, as just part of the natural process of things. She totally believes in souls and stuff, and going on."

"I've had that talk with her myself," Giles said, remembering when his grandmother had dragged him to Devon after he'd turned up on her doorstep all those years ago, playing at being the prodigal. He'd never said anything about Randall's death, but somehow his grandmother had known, and somehow Mary had known too.

The healer's words hadn't helped much at the time, but he had found himself returning to them in later years whenever he lost someone else: his parents, Deirdre and Philip, Jenny, Joyce, Buffy... so many more. Mary's words had made it a little easier to bear the unbearable.

Kat gave him a soft smile, her eyes slightly unfocused as if seeing deeper than Giles would rather, but then she turned and put a loaded plate of breakfast onto a tray, handing it to him. "There you go. That will get you off to a good start for the day as my mom always says."

"Indeed it shall," Giles said, shaking off the less than Christmasy memories and feeling his mouth water as he contemplated the food. He glanced out the kitchen door in the direction of the stairs, wondering if he should go check on Ethan before eating.

Megan was just coming down, still in her pyjamas and robe, her long hair loose and mussed. She was yawning. "Hi," she said sleepily. "Are we having the bathroom refurbished or something?"

Well, that certainly answered the Ethan question. Handing the tray to Megan, Giles started to head for the stairs. "That's just... I better go and..." He gave up trying to explain and merely offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but doubted actually was, and went upstairs to see exactly what kind of disaster was resulting from leaving a giddy Ethan alone.

"It'll get cold!" Kat called after him.

Giles couldn't take the time to answer her as there was indeed quite a racket coming from the bathroom. A lot of banging, a human voice apparently yelling, and... a dog howling? Oh lord. Stealing himself, Giles opened the bathroom door and cautiously stuck his head in. "Ethan, what–"

He stopped as he could barely hear himself yell over the row of the howling dog and human. Singing human, he corrected himself. Both appeared to be in the shower; he could see their silhouettes through the glass. The human component to the noise suddenly stopped, and Ethan slid open the door a little way and grinned wetly out at Giles. "Shh," he told Skunk; Giles saw rather than heard it. The puppy quietened, and Ethan asked, "Breakfast ready then?"

Giles blinked at Ethan for a moment, making a mental note to never shag Ethan in the morning again if this was the result. "Kat's cooking it. You might want to keep it down a bit. You're scaring the Slayers."

Ethan pouted exaggeratedly. "My self-expression is unacceptable again, I see."

"Ethan, you are many wonderful and exasperating things, but a singer is not one of them." In the old days, Ethan attempting to sing had always been a sign to take away whatever substance he'd been imbibing as he'd obviously had too much. It was certainly clear to Giles that Ethan had had too much in this instance as well; he just wasn't exactly sure what he'd had too much of.

The shower was still running, steam emerging from behind the glass and starting to fill the bathroom. Ethan pulled the door all the way open, revealing his dripping body as well as a totally bedraggled and very happy looking puppy. "Water's hot," he pointed out redundantly. "Want to come and get clean?"

Giles couldn't say he wasn't tempted. "You do realise that nothing is going to happen in front of the dog?"

Another pout. "You're just all kinds of spoilsport today, aren't you?" Ethan turned in the shower and began to switch the water off.

"Yes, that's me, the mean old spoilsport who just shagged you silly – apparently literally - when you woke up this morning."

Ethan looked back out. "Sorry," he said with a more serious expression. He stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, but Giles picked it up before Ethan could grab it and held it open for him. Walking into the towel and letting Giles wrap him up, Ethan smiled softly. "I know I'm being a bit excessive. It's just... it's Christmas!" The irrepressible grin was back.

Before Giles could answer, his trousers were suddenly soaked through as a small bundle of very wet fur shook itself vigorously beside him.

Thanking all the powers that be that at least Gwydion didn't feel the need to shower with him, Giles focused his magic on Ethan's puppy. " _Exhala aquam viduum_ ," he murmured, pulling the excess moisture from Skunk's fur and his own trousers.

Skunk yapped excitedly. "Ack!" Ethan exclaimed, looking down at Skunk in alarm. "You've fluffballed her!" It was true that the puppy's fur now looked for all the world like she'd been blow-dried on too high a heat.

Giles just gave his trousers a meaningful glance, then looked back at Ethan with a raised eyebrow.

That got him an amused smirk. "I'm still wet," Ethan pointed out, reaching his arms out for a hug, the towel falling to the floor. Skunk barked and bounced at their feet, skidding on the bathroom tiles.

" _Exhala aquam viduum_ ," Giles said again quickly, before Ethan could wrap himself around him and totally soak his clothes for the second time in less than a minute.

Laughing, Ethan finished the gesture anyway and pulled close to Giles. "I suppose I have fluffy hair now too."

"You're a matched set," Giles told him, unable to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Ethan and sighing in contentment.

Ethan tipped his head and leant in for a kiss, and Giles found himself obliging without even thinking about it. Despite how recently he'd been inside Ethan, there was something about the way Ethan was moving his naked body in a gentle rocking dance that was immediately distracting.

Giles actually jumped a little when Kat's voice came loudly from outside the bathroom door. "I'm not going to cook you two another full English breakfast, you know."

"We'll be right there," Giles called out, then reluctantly stepped back from Ethan. "She really has gone all out with the cooking. We should go eat it before it gets cold."

Ethan looked down at himself ruefully. "Suppose I'd better get dressed then." He picked up the towel and returned it to the rack before donning his bathrobe. After pausing to look thoughtfully at Giles, a slight smile quirking his lips, he then left the bathroom, his faithful if rather fluffy hound at his heels.

Shaking his head with a wry smile, Giles followed.

***

Ethan gazed at the enticing heap of glittery presents strewn around the tree and then back at the kitchen door, beyond which Rupert and Megan were doing no doubt unmentionable things to the large dead fowl destined to be roasted. Then he looked at Kat and winked. "I'll cover you if you want to initiate a covert investigation."

Kat gave a ladylike snort. "You are such a bad influence."

He looked back at the pile of gifts. "Or you could cover me?" he suggested hopefully.

She crossed her arms and shook her head.

He gave her a thoroughly exasperated look. Nobody here would join in his fun today. Well, except for Skunk. He leant to his side and ruffled the dog's ears, getting a happy yap of thanks as a reward. "Actually," he started brightly. "I believe it's time for Giddy's morning constitutional if you would be so kind." The wolfhound pricked up his ears, stirring in his basket.

"Sure," Kat said brightly. "And you can bring Skunk along for hers."

He frowned. "Skunk's an indoor dog. Well, indoor and back garden."

Kat looked thoughtfully at Skunk. "Seems like she's an awfully energetic dog to be confined in that small an area."

"Well, I'm sure she'll be coming with me to the office too." He shifted uncomfortably in his armchair.

Now Kat was looking at him with a thoughtful expression. "All right, give."

"Your presents? Certainly, but I don't think Rupert will be pleased." He made to rise from his seat.

Her stare pinned him in place. "Ethan, stop dancing around and talk to your Slayer."

Sinking back in the chair, he glowered at her. "Neither of you have the slightest iota of respect for me. I don't want Skunk going near roads." He patted his lap, and Skunk jumped up for a cuddle.

Kat rolled her eyes. "We love you, which in my book is a damned sight better than respect, so get over it." Then in softer, gentler tones that invited confidences and promised understanding, she asked, "Why don't you want her to go near roads?"

Ethan wasn't sure how much he liked the changes that Kat's Devonshire training was making in her. "I don't want to lose her," he muttered and hugged the puppy close, feeling as if he was hurting her somehow even talking about this. Skunk squirmed around and licked his face. Then she pulled back for all the world as if checking to see if she'd cheered him up. He couldn't help but smile at her. "Such a good dog," he murmured approvingly.

"Do you think, maybe," Kat began a bit hesitantly, "you could be overreacting in what you're afraid of?"

"No," he said tightly. It was time to change the subject. "Do you want the telly on? I suspect there's a classic musical on almost every channel, so plenty to choose from."

"Maybe that's what you should do with your fear of Skunk and roads," Kat said, not seeming to make any sense until she added, "You don't like where the conversation is going, you change the subject. You don't like the idea of Skunk going near roads because you're afraid you'll lose her, change the parameters so you won't lose her if she goes near roads. Then you won't have to be afraid anymore."

He stared at her. "Change the rules, you mean?"

"Yeah." She smiled at him. "You've never been big on following them anyway."

He stared at her some more as he thought about the little magic shop he'd purchased Megan's owl pendant from. They had a silversmith there practised in enchantment. Perhaps...

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the front door. Giddy stood up from his basket and barked.

"That'll be Xander," Kat said happily, dashing off to answer the door.

Ethan stood, holding Skunk in his arms, and prepared himself to play the pleasant host. As Buffy and Dawn entered the room, bearing more armfuls of gifts, he smiled at them. "Welcome both. Would you care for a sherry and a mince pie? Or a mulled wine? Perhaps something more American?"

Dawn's attention, however, was immediately focused on Skunk. "You've got a new puppy!" she exclaimed, handing the gifts she was carrying to her already overloaded sister and moving closer to get a better look. "Oh, she's so cute!" Dawn looked up at Ethan, waiting for his nod of permission before reaching out to pet Skunk. "I always wanted a puppy, but Buffy wouldn't let me."

While Ethan could no longer see Buffy's face as the Slayer had moved to the tree to put the gifts with the others, he could imagine the response to that remark. "Yes, she's like that," he agreed in a tone that hopefully conveyed gentle teasing and nothing more. "Skunk, this is Dawn. She's a friend." He stopped himself saying anything more about the girl at that point. He'd explain to the puppy later... which was a strange thing to feel like he needed to do, now that he thought about it.

He let Dawn take Skunk from him and smiled at Xander and Kat as they came in, entwined in each other's arms. "Will _you_ at least take me up on some Christmas cheer, Xander?"

"I'll take all the cheer I can get, Christmas or otherwise," Xander replied with a grin.

Ethan decided not to offer the mulled wine again as the slightly cross voices coming from the kitchen convinced him he didn't want to go in there just now. So he walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured them both a small glass of Baileys, considering it more likely to be popular than the traditional cream sherry. He handed one to Xander. "I'm sure you girls want something really."

Dawn was still caught up with Skunk and also Gwydion, doing her best to make a fuss of both puppies simultaneously, but Buffy straightened from putting all the gifts under the tree and brushed her hair back from her face. "Maybe a small drink," she allowed with a smile. "Just to get into the spirit."

He handed her his glass of Baileys as he hadn't touched it yet and poured another for himself. "You'll like that," he promised. "I've never known anyone to not like Baileys... Well, apart from the dairy intolerant, I suppose."`

"I'm not dairy intolerant," she replied, sipping at the glass. "Just large amounts of alcohol intolerant. A drunk Buffy leads to all sorts of badness."

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

Dawn looked up from her puppy worship to start, "Well, this one time–" A pointed cough from Buffy brought a sudden end to that story.

Xander, however, wasn't quite so easily swayed. "Let's just say that beer brings out Buffy's inner primitive and leave it at that."

Ethan made a mental note to get the full story from Rupert later on. "Well, this isn't beer so drink up. Kat, if you could take your hands off your boyfriend for at least a couple of seconds, you could go and fetch the mince pies and let the cooks know the rest of the guests are here."

"You're just jealous because your boyfriend is busy," Kat teased, but reluctantly detangled herself from Xander's arms and headed into the kitchen.

"There goes a large part of my Christmas cheer," Xander said, with a mock sigh of pathos.

"I'm sure she'll be right back," Ethan said drily. "I suspect your heart won't break in those few seconds."

"You'll just have to keep me distracted until she gets back." Xander held up a hand. "And no, not in that way."

Ethan smiled and tried to keep his discomfort from his eyes. Since the embarrassing kissing incident, he'd only seen Xander twice and both times they had been in a busy group, discussing Council business. Xander seemed to want to make light of the Chaos-charged attack, and Ethan was happy to let him do that, but he himself remained uneasy. It would have helped if he wasn't able to remember exactly what Xander's lips felt like.

Kat came back from the kitchen carrying a tray of goodies, Rupert with an apron around his waist following in her footsteps. Ethan instantly slipped closer to his husband, putting an arm lightly around Rupert's waist as he looked for Megan.

"Megan should be out in a little bit," Rupert answered the unasked question. His mouth quirked up into a half-smile. "She ordered me to go play host."

 _'Is she all right?'_ he sent as he put his again untouched glass of Baileys into Rupert's hand. "Well, have a drink with us then," he said out loud.

 _'She's fine,'_ Rupert assured him equally silently. _'I dare say even in her element. There was some muttering about too many cooks as she shooed me off.'_

"They brought more presents," Ethan pointed out, looking happily at the evidence of capitalism gone mad on their floor. "Don't you think now feels like a good opening time?"

Dawn looked up hopefully. "Feels just right to me, Ethan."

"Gifts are of the good," Buffy added equally hopefully.

Rupert blinked. "And you are all looking at me because...?"

Ethan giggled. "Very well then. I declare that it will be present opening time the moment Megan can be persuaded out of the kitchen to join us."

"Good luck on that," Kat said. "She practically chased me out with a rolling pin."

"Hmm," Ethan said thoughtfully. "I may have a method that will work." He looked at the kitchen door a little nervously. "A token for your knight, fair sir, before I ride into battle with the fearsome kitchen-dweller?" he asked Rupert with a wink.

"You want my handkerchief?" Rupert asked dryly, a faint smile gracing his lips as he reached towards his trouser pocket for said item. Ethan gave him a hard look. "Well, that generally was what a token was," Rupert pointed out deadpan.

"You could at least let me get it out for you," Ethan said with a wicked smirk. There were general titters of amusement from the crowd.

"Oh for–" Buffy stood up and headed for the kitchen door. "I'll go get her."

Ethan grinned. "Ah ha. My secret plan is working, I see." He twirled an invisible moustache.

"Behave," Rupert told him mildly, although he leant in and kissed Ethan nonetheless.

Ethan enjoyed Rupert's lips as he waited for two Slayers, hopefully, to come out of the kitchen. From behind him, he heard Dawn exclaim a long drawn out, "Wow. They do really do that."

"Yup," Xander confirmed. "All the time."

"Among other things," Kat put in helpfully.

"Yes, thank you, Kat," Rupert replied mildly, pulling back just a little from Ethan.

"Aw look, you made him stop," Ethan complained, but Buffy was coming back out of the kitchen, followed by Megan, so he immediately brightened again. "Presents!"

"We should make you say 'please'," Rupert teased, chuckling perhaps at Ethan's reversion back to one word sentences.

Ethan knew he was behaving like a child at times, but it was almost deliberate. It was his inner child who had missed ever having a proper Christmas, after all. Still, he could be vaguely sensible. "Megan and, um, Dawn, why don't you two be in charge of distribution?"

"Sure," Dawn said, stepping away from the dogs to join Megan at the tree. Giddy just stretched out where he was, and Skunk immediately padded over to Ethan's feet again.

Giles sat down in his armchair, and Ethan perched on the arm of it, waiting. The first present Megan lifted from the heap, of course, was not for him. For a second, he'd thought it was, because she came over to them, but it was Rupert she handed the gift to.

"That's from Kat and me," Xander said. "Though her idea - I just provided the legwork."

"And kind of a lot of the money," Kat added.

Ethan watched Rupert open the gift. The largish box inside had the words 'Home Recording Studio' emblazoned over the top. He leant in closer to Rupert to take a better look.

"It's so you can make your own album," Kat said as Rupert turned the box to read the contents more closely. "Record your own CD."

"So it is a present for me, after all." Ethan beamed. It seemed like Rupert was at a loss for words, although Ethan could read his expressions well enough to know Rupert's embarrassed sense of propriety was warring with a shy pleasure that was shining almost childlike in his eyes.

"Now you'll have to use the computer," Megan giggled.

Ethan himself was delighted with Rupert's present. "I do hope someone's bought me one of those portable CD players." he said a little archly. "So I can listen to His Master's Voice wherever I go."

"Well, actually," Megan started and began to rummage through the presents until she came up with another box-shaped one, smaller than Rupert's had been. She brought it over to him. "It's not quite a CD Player, and it's second hand," she confessed, looking a little embarrassed. "But everything's there and it works. We checked."

Ethan grinned at her, delighted to get a gift to upwrap and not really caring what it was. He read the card, which revealed that it was from Megan, and carefully unstuck the tape, exposing the box inside. It took him a few seconds to work out what it was, but then he realised that the inexplicable combination of letters and numbers that formed the name of the device didn't matter. It was an MP3 player. "Thank you, Megan!" He hugged her exuberantly. "Quite perfect." He turned to Rupert with challenge in his eyes.

"This is an extravagant gift," Rupert said, looking up at Kat and Xander from his own piece of technological wizardry. "It seems I have a new hobby." He glanced at Ethan. "Whether I want one or not."

Ethan leant over to kiss him, but as their lips met, there was coughing from the couch, followed by Buffy's voice making urgent noises. Ethan looked round to see her gesticulating at her sister.

With a cheeky grin, Dawn approached with a large and rather floppy gift, immaculately wrapped. She handed it to Ethan. "Buffy wants you kept too busy to kiss Giles."

"That's gotta be some present to do that," Kat opined, which made Giles have to cover up a laugh with a cough.

"Thank you, Dawn..." Ethan said with a grin, adding, "and Buffy," after reading the label. He undid the big ribbon and drew apart the wrapping paper. Inside was... an old fashioned satin eiderdown? Why on earth wou– The reason for the gift became clear when Ethan saw the label: 'handcrafted and filled with 100% goosedown'. He grinned his best foxy grin. "I love it. Thank you very much, Buffy."

Buffy smiled back. "It seemed appropriate when I saw it." Rupert was looking back and forth between Ethan and his Slayer with a bemused expression.

Ethan shook out the eiderdown and looked at it fully. "After a delicious meal of roast goose, I will wrap this around myself and consider that I am a happy fox."

"Is that anything like a wolf in sheep's clothing?" Dawn asked with a teasing smile.

Ethan chuckled. "It's not dissimilar. So Buffy, if I hold this up, am I permitted to kiss my husband behind it?"

"Only if you don't tell me ahead of time that's what you're doing."

Ethan decided to use Buffy's own methods. "Megan, sweetheart? Could you perhaps find our present for the Senior Slayer and distract her with it?" He then held up the eiderdown, and behind it, slid into Rupert's lap with a giggle.

"You are very bad," Rupert murmured to him with a smile, even as he wrapped his arms around Ethan and leant in for a kiss.

The present giving carried on over the other side of the quilted bedspread, with many delighted squeals to be heard, but Ethan did his best to draw out the kiss, not that Rupert seemed exactly reluctant. Their lips had just broken apart, and they were smiling softly at each other when something piebald and fluffy landed between them and yapped.

There was a deeper bark from beside the chair.

Rupert looked down at Gwydion sitting beside their chair and Skunk now sitting on Ethan's lap and chuckled softly. "I think someone wants our attention."

"Well, if you don't want another present..." Megan began, making as if to put back the large wrapped rectangular gift she was resting on the floor in front of her.

"Also for me?" Ethan asked, rather surprised. He let the bedspread drop to their legs, making a Skunk-shaped mound, and straightened up as much as he could in Rupert's lap. "Is it from the dogs?"

"Nope," Dawn said excitedly. "Wrong on both counts. Read the tag."

Despite the gift not supposedly being for Ethan, Megan offered the large and very flat item to him. Confused, he cajoled Skunk back to the floor and took it. It was heavy, and from the clear raised border he could feel all around the edges, Ethan immediately suspected a framed picture. He turned the tag over; it read, 'To Giles and Ethan from the Scoobies'.

Ethan looked to find everybody watching them with an air of anticipation. "Well, go on," Dawn encouraged, "open it."

"It's not going to explode or anything, is it?" Giles asked drily.

 _'It's to both of us, dearheart,'_ Ethan sent to Rupert, feeling both pleased and bemused.

 _'Do we dare open it?_ ' Rupert sent back, his thoughts sparkling with humour.

 _'You first?'_ Ethan suggested with a sheepish grin. Rupert returned the grin and began to carefully rip the paper off, Ethan holding the gift steady. _'They're all staring at us.'_ he sent without looking up. He could sense the attention.

 _'Yes, I know. I don't know if I find that reassuring or alarming.'_ The wrapping paper finally came loose, revealing the gift beneath.

It was indeed a framed picture. Or, rather, pictures. The matting was of the kind that had many spaces for different photos. The centre, largest picture was a candid shot of Ethan and Rupert sitting on the sofa together, Ethan leaning against Rupert who had an arm around his waist. It must've been taken on the sly because Ethan didn't remember it. The pictures closest to it were other shots of the two of them together and apart, both from the present and from the past. The outermost pictures were of others - Megan and Kat as well as the 'Scoobies'. There were even pictures of both Giddy and Skunk.

Ethan realised his mouth had fallen open and closed it in a hurry. If he'd had any doubt that he'd somehow gained himself a family, he couldn't maintain that now. _'Rupert, I've been accepted,'_ he sent, in what was meant to be an urbane and humorous tone but came out far too fast and almost panicky. All he managed out loud was a rather faint "Oh."

"We figured you could use something a bit more personal than generic Council-owned prints to hang on your walls," Xander said a smile. "It's from Willow too. From all of us."

Rupert seemed almost as much at a loss for words as Ethan was. "It's..."

"Brilliant!" Ethan finished for him, grinning around at the assembled faces. "Absolutely brilliant."

"Yes," Rupert agreed. "It is." His gaze sought out each of the Scoobies in turn. "Thank you. I'll thank Willow too when I call her later."

While Ethan was still studying all the many pictures, a happy smile on his face, a buzzer went off in the kitchen, and Megan scurried off to deal with it. There were quite a few presents still under the tree, and Ethan looked at them with mild alarm. "I do think that people who are not me deserve a present or two as well."

Dawn threw a small gift at Kat who caught it neatly. "Don't open it 'til Megan comes back!"

***

Exchanging gifts and dinner were both over before Giles was able to casually get Xander alone. There was something important he wanted to address with the young man, but he didn't want to make a spectacle out of it.

They were outside on the patio, wrapped up warm but enjoying a cup of Ethan's blackest coffee together. Xander stuck out his gut and rubbed it expressively. "Ah, there's nothing like a good slurp of after-gargantuan-feast pure grade caffeine to hit the spot."

"To keep one from slipping into a food-induced coma?" Giles smiled. "It was quite the meal, wasn't it?"

"That goose was well and truly eaten. And the apple stuffing and the sack of potatoes I peeled. And all those roast vegetables, which were far nummier than any vegetables ever have a right to be. And even the Brussels sprouts, on which I call unfair! Nobody eats sprouts, like ever. But you did them with chestnuts and those sweet tasting onions and... I so can't eat anymore, shutting up now."

"It did turn out rather well." Giles allowed himself to feel the tiniest bit smug about that, although Megan deserved at least as much of the credit as he did.

Xander patted him on the back. "You and Megan have earned your droopy white hats today."

"Something to keep in mind if I ever need a fallback career." Which was as good a segue into what he wanted to talk to Xander about as anything. "And speaking of careers..."

"I'm fired?" Xander laughed and toasted Giles with his coffee cup. "Cheers, boss!"

Giles continued gamely on. "Actually I wanted to speak to you about a change in positions, a promotion of sorts."

"Who for? For me?" Xander looked rather more alarmed than pleased.

"Well it would hardly be for me now, would it?" Giles replied dryly. "Yes, Xander. For you."

"But–"

"Would you like to hear the proposal before you start protesting?"

Xander gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Please commence with bean spillage."

"You've been an invaluable asset in the field, Xander. You've excellent people skills, both with the Slayers and with their families. You have a knack for making everyone feel better about the situation. That's a talent that not everybody possesses."

Xander shifted nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. "Always had to play the mediator at home; guess that's where that comes from."

The little Giles knew about Xander's home-life and family was not pretty. Comforting scared young girls and reassuring their families was likely to seem easy after that. "Wherever you obtained it, it's something that I'm very glad to be able to call upon, which brings me to my offer."

Xander opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again. He grinned ironically at Giles and made a 'go on' gesture.

"You may have noticed a certain need for finesse with people involved with running the Council..."

"The people not you, you mean? Yeah, when you're a 'know-nothing colonial', you have to tread softly on the marbled floors... or, uh, linoleum as the case may be."

"Something you've excelled at, although you've also known when treading softly is to the detriment. I could use someone with your talents and ability." Giles paused to emphasise his next words. "Here. In London. On a permanent basis."

"Seriously?" Xander's worried expression vanished, turning into one showing something close to delight. "Uh, wow? What would I be doing? No, scrub that, I don't give a... Uh, I mean, yes! I accept!"

Giles smiled and clapped a hand to Xander's shoulder. "Good. That's taken care of then."

"So," Xander said with a grin, "what _will_ I be doing?"

"For the moment, essentially what you already have been - helping us track the rise in Chaotic activity and working on deciphering the prophecy." Giles had more long-term plans for Xander, but wasn't sure how the younger man would take them at this point.

"Neat. Now getting a visa will be as easy as not-so-American pie, and there I was thinking I'd have to propose to Kat just to be able to stay here." He grinned, but the grin fell quickly into a cringe. "Uh, that was a joke."

"Yes, I got that," Giles said mildly. "And yes, you should have no problem getting a visa. Pamela will have all the paperwork ready for your signature when we go back to the office after the holiday."

"So the gift-wrapped satchel was the subtle version of this chat, huh?" One of Xander's gifts from Giles and Ethan had been a leather satchel not unlike Giles' own.

"It was something I knew you were going to need if you accepted my proposal as I hoped you would," Giles replied with a perfectly straight face.

"It's good to have somewhere to keep my sack lunch," Xander said, nodding seriously.

The back door opened, and Kat slipped out with Gwydion to join them. As Giles patted his puppy, Kat slipped her arms around Xander. "What's all this secret plotting going on out here?"

"No secret plotting," Giles assured her, kneeling to give more attention to Gwydion, who squirmed happily. "Just a job offer that's been accepted."

She looked between them questioningly, her expression worried much as Xander's had been earlier, but Xander pulled her closer. "You have your hands on a bona fide London worker person."

Giles didn't even try to hide his smile as Kat's reaction was as enthusiastic as it was positive. He stood and headed back inside with Gwydion at his heels, leaving the couple alone before reactions could get any more enthusiastic.


	3. Chapter 3

Giles wandered downstairs, looking for Ethan. It was late Boxing Day evening, and all the festivities were over, at least until New Year's Eve, for which they were intending a quiet and cosy evening for two.

Ethan wasn't hard to find. He was tidying up the front room, pausing every few moments to dance fairly enthusiastically to music Giles couldn't hear. The MP3 player Megan had given Ethan was attached to his belt, so that would explain that, but still, it was a fascinating sight. He'd always liked watching Ethan dance, but this way, unable to hear the music, Giles was able to concentrate more on Ethan's movements.

Dancing, he concluded – or at least Ethan's dancing - was a lot like sex.

Spotting Giles as he turned to put a glass on a tray of washing up he was collecting, Ethan grinned. He straightened up and shimmied himself over into Giles' space, until he was dancing right against him, rubbing provocatively. "Ready for bed, dear?" he asked, rather too loudly.

"You seem very... energetic," Giles commented, raising his voice a little so that Ethan would be able to hear him over the MP3 player, but remaining mindful of Megan asleep upstairs. "Am I to assume you're not talking about bed for sleep?"

Ethan pulled the discreet earphones from his ears. "Oh, I'm sure there will be sleep on the cards. Eventually."

"What are you listening to?"

"Pet Shop Boys - one of the CDs Kat and Xander gave me. Megan did something with the computer, and now it's all on this thing. The other CDs too. It's a smidgen too modern for your tastes, dearheart." Ethan smirked.

Giles pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling me old?"

"Well, this was made after 1977." Ethan chuckled and backed up slightly. There was clear invitation in his eyes

"Someone's asking to be punished." Giles slid his arms around Ethan's waist.

"Are they?" Ethan laughed again. "How very unwise of them." His hand moved to the player on his belt to turn it off... or so Giles thought. But instead Ethan turned the volume up loud enough that even Giles could hear a tinny version of the music and then put the earphones back into place. He turned his back on Giles and began shaking his hips in a very wicked fashion.

"Definitely asking for it," Giles murmured, moving to pull Ethan against him again.

Ethan kept dancing, his arse rubbing against Giles in a way that was clearly going to drive him a little mad if it went on too long. Giles' body was reacting in the predictable fashion, and he tightened his grip on Ethan's hips to just this side of bruising.

"Hello Ripper," Ethan said, purred almost. His larger movements were stopped by Giles' fierce grip, but somehow Giles could still feel the beat of the music pulsing through Ethan's body.

"You're such a brat," Giles all but growled, knowing that Ethan would make out the words even if he couldn't hear them. The bond did have some advantages.

"Clearly someone needs to take me in hand."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Ethan chuckled. "Depends, really."

"Well, you do seem to be begging to be punished." He let just a touch of his magic trickle along his fingertips.

Ethan's head tipped back over Giles' shoulder, and he asked a little breathlessly, "Have I been very wicked?"

"You did call me old."

"Oh yes. That was bad. Quite reprehensible. Clearly the hand I should be taken in should be a firm one."

"Privileges shall have to be taken away," Giles said, reaching down and pulling the MP3 player from Ethan's belt.

As the earphones dropped from Ethan's head he made a petulant noise of complaint. "That was my favourite track!"

"You've a choice to make then." Giles moved so that he was breathing the words directly against Ethan's ear. "It or me."

Ethan rubbed back against him. "Not much of a choice, that."

"Even though I'm old?"

"We're the same age, Rupert. Give or take a year or two." It was said very reasonably, peaceably, but then Ethan spoilt it by adding, "You're just stuck in the past, that's all," with an evil little giggle. Giles threw the player at the sofa and then tightened his grip on Ethan, adding a sharp sting of magic to his touch. Ethan whimpered, just a little. "Now, now, Ripper. Don't want to wake up the dogs, do we?"

"You'll just have to work at being quiet then, won't you?" Giles replied with a tight smile.

"I'm not very good at that," Ethan pointed out, quite truthfully.

"What fun is it asking you to do something that's easy?" He let go with one hand, trailing it, covered in magic, along Ethan's stomach. Ethan tensed, but made only the slightest of noises. "Good," Giles praised, falling even more into what he thought of as the Ripper mindset. "Stay quiet like that, and I won't have to gag you."

Ethan shivered and pushed back again into Giles. "May I talk?" he asked quietly.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

Ethan said, a little louder, "May I move?" He rubbed his arse against Giles again.

Giles sent another burst of magic through him. "No."

There was a muted grunt, and Ethan's hips stilled. "Not even my hands?" he asked.

"What do you need to move your hands for?"

"I could touch things?" Ethan suggested helpfully.

Giles deliberately took some time before answering. "Maybe later." He paused again. "Maybe not." Ethan whined, a distinct noise in the quiet living room. "What did I say about keeping it quiet?" Giles asked, sliding a hand over Ethan's mouth, still keeping up the sparks of magic from his fingers.

Shaking a little in reaction, Ethan tensed further, but then, proving that he indeed had the spirit of the devil in him tonight, Giles felt Ethan's tongue poking wetly out to lick at the palm of his hand. Ethan too channelled magic.

"Brat." The way this was heading, Giles thought it would be prudent if they moved this to a more private room, just in case Megan decided she wanted a midnight snack or something. Accordingly, he dragged Ethan into the study and shut the door behind him. Once there, he leant against the door and let go of Ethan with a shove. "Strip," he ordered.

Clearly aroused by the command, Ethan gave him an intensely lustful look before doing what he was told. He undressed slowly and teasingly, but eventually stood in front of Giles naked bar his socks, and very erect.

Giles felt himself grow harder at the sight, but he ignored his own state of arousal for now. First he wanted to focus on Ethan. Accordingly, he pushed off from the door and slowly circled Ethan, only touching him with his eyes.

Ethan shivered. "All present and correct, I hope."

"Everything seems in place." He reached out and ran a finger along the line of Ethan's spine, but not touching him with anything but his magic.

That produced a much more pronounced shiver and a gasp. "Rupert."

"Yes?" Giles circled around him again, and repeated the motion, this time down Ethan's chest.

Ethan stared beseechingly at him, panting a little. "Please?"

"Please what, love?"

Ethan stepped towards him. "I need you."

Giles stepped back, keeping the same distance between them. "Old man that I am?"

"I was only teasing," Ethan said, somewhat pathetically. His eyes were wide, and he seemed to be trying his best to look misunderstood and innocent. He took another step forward.

"I can see I'm going to have to use restraints." As he said it, Giles reached out with his magic and wrapped it around Ethan's wrists and ankles.

Ethan looked down in alarm as the magic hobbled him, waved his now bound arms about for balance, found insufficient of it, and fell back onto his arse with a bump. He glared indignantly up. "Oh, I think that deserves a solid 'ouch'."

Giles gave his best Ripperish smile. "There's always some pain involved in discipline."

Ethan pulled himself up into a sitting position, his knees raised and his arms resting upon them. He gazed at Giles with a calculating expression, then smiled slightly. "So... no touching. Very well." Ethan's grin grew, then Giles felt a strong surge of pleasure move through his loins, causing him to tense and catch his breath.

"A definite brat." Giles circled around Ethan again, trailing magic randomly over his skin. "I may not be able to manipulate patterns like you, but I'm sure I can come up with an appropriate response." To the magic fetters he already had on Ethan, Giles added two more: one around Ethan's neck and the other around his cock.

Ethan seemed to convulse almost. "No!" he protested, his bound hands going to his cock. "You know I hate that. Take it off!"

Giles did nothing except continue his movement around Ethan until he was standing in front of him again. "You think you're in any position to make demands?"

Ethan gave him a pained and almost angry look, writhing and wriggling under the tight magic bands. He seemed to be struggling with something internally too, but then he looked down submissively and muttered, "I'm sorry I suggested you were old. Please take it off."

It was rare that Ethan was that submissive, and it made Giles wonder if alarm bells should have been ringing. He banished the magical cock ring and knelt in front of Ethan so he could meet his eyes. "We don't have to play like this if it's... uncomfortable."

Shifting uneasily, Ethan snorted softly. "I seem to have spoilt things. I do apologise."

"Nothing's spoilt," Giles assured him. "But if you're not in the mood for..." he gestured at the magic that still held Ethan captive, "this, we can find other ways to play."

"I thought I was..." Ethan gave him a wry look. "But it seems I was wrong."

With a thought, Giles banished the fetters back into the ether, then pulled Ethan into his arms. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ethan wrapped his arms round in turn and settled against Giles. "I'm willing to do so in principle, but I'm not sure that I have much to say as I don't know what happened there." He looked up, his expression worried. "I wanted to fight you."

"I hate to break it to you, but that isn't unusual for you in that situation." Giles kept his tone deliberately light. "You always fight me for every inch."

"No, dearheart. I meant really fight you. As in, for dominance."

Giles blinked. "Oh."

"I think Christmas has gone to my head. I'll get over it, I'm sure." Ethan's hand moved restlessly over Giles' chest.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing, you know," Giles mused, slowly turning over the possibilities in his mind. "It could prove to be quite... stimulating."

"I don't want to fight you. That's not fun."

"I don't think we'd ever end up in a knockdown brawl out of it, but a little challenge, that's something different." He grinned at Ethan. "I'm fairly sure that no matter who, ah, comes out on top, so to speak, we'd both enjoy it."

Ethan looked far from convinced. He shifted and wriggled, something close to a pout on his face. "No," he said, facing Giles more or less. "I really don't think that would work at all."

"No?" Giles ran a finger along Ethan's lower lip where it stuck out a little. "Why not?"

"Because," Ethan started then moved unexpectedly, pushing Giles backwards to the floor before he had a chance to react and moving over him in a straddle. "I'd always win." He grinned wickedly down, and Giles felt his head spin as his arousal levels skyrocketed. Ethan was pattern-tweaking again.

Giles arched and writhed as the sensations sparked along his nervous system, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate enough to flip them over so that Ethan was lying below him. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said and called his own magic up.

Ethan began to struggle hard, but he was grinning wolfishly, so clearly that was part of the game. Giles found himself grinning back just as wolfishly as he slid his magic over Ethan's skin. He met every surge of sexual arousal that Ethan sent through him with a surge of his magic in turn.

Ethan's struggles just so happened to be causing him to almost constantly rub his erection up against Giles, and Giles found that he too was grinding his hips, resenting his clothes. Both of them were breathing very heavily, gasping and growling. Ethan almost managed to roll them over again at one point when Giles was momentarily distracted by a surge of almost unbearable sensation, but Ethan wasn't quite strong enough.

Giles retaliated by wrapping his magic around Ethan's cock once again. At the same time he leant down and devoured Ethan's mouth.

 _'Bastard!'_ Ethan yelled, and it took Giles a moment to realise that the word was only in his head. He then felt Ethan shaking under him... laughing? Then all the struggling and writhing stopped, like the calm in the centre of a storm.

Giles felt a tight band of restrictive sensation circling the base of his own cock.

He pulled back enough to look down at Ethan, who was wearing a very smug smile. "Nice move," Giles complimented, understanding that Ethan had linked their individual patterns of arousal as he had done once before. "But do you really think you can hold out longer than I?"

He actually saw the recognition flicker over Ethan's face, the moment when Ethan realised that, by making sure each felt what the other felt, Ethan had ensured his own defeat. Because one thing they both knew Giles had an awful lot more of than Ethan was willpower. "Bugger."

"Shall we play this out or do you want to concede now?" Giles asked, running a hand full of magic down Ethan's chest, enjoying the ghost sensation on his own chest.

Ethan took a shuddering breath. "If I concede, do we both get the exquisite pleasure of your cock in our arse?"

"Our arse?" Giles grinned. "Is that like the royal arse?" Before Ethan could answer, Giles leant over and breathed against Ethan's ear, shivering himself at the sensation, "I'm going to fuck you right through the floor whether you concede or not. Concession just gets you fucked all the sooner."

He felt Ethan's charged response to that promise in his own body, but managed to hold back the gasp that Ethan released. "I concede," Ethan said raggedly. "You win."

"I always do," Giles said with probably more smugness and conceit than was necessary, but besting Ethan always made him feel like that. He sat up enough to deal with the fastenings on his trousers.

Ethan reached forward and stroked his own cock, moving his thumb wetly over the spot that Giles was most sensitive in, quite deliberately, Giles was sure. Giles swallowed his gasp and tightened the magic binding on Ethan's cock, the sudden pain that made him himself feel giving him a better level of control.

"I want you on your hands and knees."

Ethan's head had tipped back as the magical cock-ring tightened, the veins and tendons of his neck in taut relief. He looked now as if he was considering disobeying, but then suddenly he rolled over and lifted himself up as he'd been told. Much as he wanted to just admire the sight in front of him, Giles didn't want to give Ethan a chance to get up to more mischief. Best to keep his attention focused and to that end, Giles quickly pushed his way into Ethan, only magic easing the way.

And as he did, of course, he felt himself being entered. Ethan, presumably, also felt himself penetrating and penetrated simultaneously. It made it difficult to know when or how to move, although somehow they seemed to be working it out. "Ripper," Ethan moaned. "Oh, please."

It was, Giles thought before he lost himself totally in the movement and sensations, something like participating in an orgy, but with the intimacy of it being only Ethan and him. The best of both worlds. By the end, it was impossible to say who was moaning, who was writhing, who was thrusting hard, who was coming... and coming... and coming...

The next thing Giles was aware of was a distant scratching sound pulling him back to consciousness. He groaned and opened his eyes, rolling over onto his back.

Something barked. And something much closer moaned.

Giles' brain provided the identity of both, but the thought of actually moving more than he had was not a happy one, not quite yet. Waving a hand in the direction of the scratching sound, he muttered the necessary Latin to unlatch the door.

He heard the two dogs come scampering across the floor, then a wet nose was poked into his face. From beside him, Ethan, who was lying on his stomach, muttered something that sounded a bit like, "Gerrrofff."

Reaching up, Giles grabbed onto Gwydion's shoulder, bracing himself against the animal to pull himself into a sitting position. "Still alive, love?" Giles asked, looking down at Ethan.

"Are there bloody annoying mutts in the afterlife?" he grumbled, rolling over. The cuddle he was giving Skunk belied the fierceness of his words.

"Having never been dead, I don't know. Ask Buffy. She's the one who's visited it." There were advantages, he decided as he leant against Gwydion, to having a large dog.

"I imagine some of the nastier Hell dimensions have dogs, don't you?" Ethan chuckled. He sounded somewhat hoarse. "Where's your pitchfork, imp?" he asked Skunk. At least, Giles hoped he was asking Skunk.

Skunk responded with her usual enthusiasm, wriggling happily and licking Ethan's face. "Well, she's made it this far," Ethan said casually. "That's thirty-six hours or so longer than the last one."

Reacting to the fear and ghost of old pain hidden under those words, Giles shifted enough to be able to reach out and brush the back of a hand gently against Ethan's cheek.

"I'm all right, dear," Ethan said, turning to smile softly at Giles. "I have a good feeling about Skunk, and anyway, Kat gave me a good idea for both dogs."

"What's that?"

"Raid my husband's bank account and have charms made for their collars. My pattern magic but imbued within metal."

"A sort of portable ward against cars?" Giles thought that over. "Quite a clever solution. You could probably even market that."

"Well, it would hardly be failsafe. Wouldn't want angry dog owners pounding on our door. But for our two, it would certainly provide some reassurance." Ethan rolled to his side, still holding Skunk, and shuffled closer to Giles, who was still sitting up.

Giles slid his hand into Ethan's hair, petting him a bit like he was one of the dogs. "Anything I can do to help with that let me know."

"You're funding it," Ethan said with a chuckle. "I used up every favour owed to me to get your pen. Although, I suppose I could offer to enchant things as barter."

"Charge it to the Council. We'll call it a prototype test for possible future equipment for working animals."

"Oh, I do adore being married to the Council head." Ethan's eyes were closed, and he was grinning. "Rupert?"

"Yes, love?"

"I remember the bed being a lot softer than this. Warmer too."

"That would probably be because you're lying on the study floor, not our bed."

"Oh. Shame I've forgotten how to move then." He yawned and snuggled closer still.

Giles chuckled. "Ethan."

"Hmm?"

"You can't sleep on the study floor."

"Oh, I do think you'll find I can." He kissed the side of Giles' closest buttock.

"Can you also explain to Megan why when she finds you here tomorrow morning? Naked?"

"You could hang a sign of the door," Ethan suggested sleepily. "Tell her not to enter on pain of education."

"As if that would keep her out." Giles pulled on Ethan's arm, starting to haul him up. "Come on."

Very reluctantly, Ethan slowly got to his feet. He leant heavily on Giles. "Christmas is over," he said a little glumly.

"Yes." Giles turned his head to kiss his temple. "For this year. There'll be another next year."

Ethan took a little more of his own weight and stroked Giles' face. "I don't really have the words for how good it's been, but you know, don't you?"

"I do know." He turned to be able to pull Ethan into a more proper embrace. "I know because it's been that way for me as well."

Ethan lay his head down on Giles' shoulder while the dogs snuffled around their feet. "Whatever comes next, we've had this. No one can take this from us."


	4. Chapter 4

Ethan sat on the edge of Rupert's canvas-covered office desk and folded his arms while he watched the workmen, a sour expression on his face. Not that he was in a bad mood, exactly. All the building work going on was for his benefit, after all. It was just that the noise, dust, and crassness of the workforce wasn't exactly a soothing environment.

Still, he told himself, it would be worth it when he was properly moved in to the office next door, to which this new doorway would connect.

Rupert looked at the workmen, then at his desk, his expression not much different from Ethan's. "Right," he finally said, turning on his heel and heading for the original door. "Shall we see if we can commandeer a conference room in which to get some work done?"

"I strongly suspect Pammie will already have organised one for you, dear," Ethan said with a smile as he followed. Then the large man with the masonry drill started it up again, so that was it for conversation until they were in the outside office, and it was loud enough even there.

Pamela gave them both a somewhat strained smile as she looked up from her work. "Sorry about the noise," Rupert told her. "They told me they should be able to finish today."

She nodded and then winced as a particularly shrill whine came vibrating through the wall. There was something about it that spoke of unpleasant dentist related experiences to Ethan. "I moved your work to Conference Room Six, sir," Pamela said, handing Rupert a key. "Do call if you need anything, won't you?" Then she added pathetically, but with a twinkle in her eye, " Please?"

"If you want to take an extra long lunch today, Pamela, no one will say anything," Rupert replied with a faint smile, having to raise his voice to be heard over the sounds coming from his office.

She smiled at him gratefully and handed him a folder with some loose papers in. "Items that arrived after I moved your in-tray," she explained. "The most important one is on the top. Lucy Harkness called with the location of three newly discovered Slayers."

"Oh good." Rupert opened the folder, read over the top paper, and then passed it to Ethan. "Looks like one is not only in this country, but within driving distance."

Ethan's flicked his eyes over it. The girl was in a suburb of Oxford, which was easily close enough for a visit. It was a nice, bright winter's day, and a drive with Rupert could be just what any doctor worth his salt would order, if Ethan ruled the world anyway. Especially as the dogs were with Buffy and Xander today. They were visiting Dawn for an afternoon in Cambridge, and the girl had begged to see the puppies again. He'd given some very strict instructions regarding roads before he'd let Skunk out of his sight.

"No time like the present to make first contact," he suggested happily to Rupert.

"Exactly my thought." Turning back to Pamela, Rupert asked, "Is there anything that requires my immediate attention?"

"Nothing that couldn't wait until late this afternoon, sir," she replied with a knowing grin.

"Good girl, Pammie," Ethan said, chuckling. "This is why you're irreplaceable, you know."

"Thank you, Pamela," Rupert said formally. "We'll be heading out then. I have my cell with me if you need to reach us." He put the key to the conference room back onto the desk.

As they walked through the corridors, Ethan grinned at Rupert. "So far this particular working week is turning out to be just smashing."

"There's paperwork I have to do eventually," Rupert warned, "but a field trip every now and then isn't a bad thing. Keeps me in touch."

Ethan chuckled. "Who knows, now that I have my own office, I might actually do some of my own paperwork. It's possible."

"That would be a sign of impending apocalypse."

Ethan whacked Rupert lightly on the arse, just because he could. "Well, at least I've had some good reading material since Christmas, and the book Dawn gave me is near as damn it work-friendly."

Rupert smiled and held the door to the carpark open. "I wouldn't mind a look at that volume myself when you're finished. Dawn seems to have an uncanny knack of finding rare and unique things. I think we'll have to see about putting her in charge of Council Acquisitions when her education is finished."

A flicker of something uncomfortable passed through Ethan with Rupert's words. Some disquiet about Dawn's future connected to his belief that she was, as the Key, connected to their own destiny. He quickly shook the uncertainty aside and smiled as they went through the door. "Astrology is usually a bit too orderly and structured for me, a little too much like maths, but this Cremonenis volume is very amusing."

"Which would explain the chuckling you've been doing when reading it."

"Well, I do have Venus in my descendant like every respectable sodomite, apparently," Ethan said with a loud laugh. They approached Rupert's BMW. "Has it struck you as at all interesting that we're going to Oxford together, dearheart?"

"You mean because we didn't twenty years ago?" Rupert glanced over at him as he opened the driver's door.

"Well, it was the place I least wanted you to be, after all."

"Actually I think the place you least wanted me to be was... " Rupert looked back over his shoulder at the Council building they just exited. "...here."

Ethan laughed a little ruefully at that. "True enough." He slipped into the passenger's seat and belted up. "And now I have my very own office here. I've sold out, dear. Become part of the establishment I rebelled against. Like all true superstars, of course." He winked at Rupert.

Rupert put the key in the ignition and smiled wryly. "I'm not sure if the fact I did it twenty years ago makes me precocious... or unremittingly dull."

Ethan put his hand on Rupert's leg and squeezed. "The one thing you've never quite managed, no matter how hard you've tried at times, is 'dull'."

"That's not what you've said in the past," Rupert replied, but nonetheless looked pleased at the comment.

"I said a lot of things before we refound each other. I sincerely hope you took none of them as gospel."

Rupert seemed to be thinking about that far more than Ethan liked. "Most of the time I didn't," he finally said.

As they drove out into Central London, Ethan dwelled upon that, eventually asking softly, "What things did you take to heart?"

"The things that hit a little too close to the bone." Rupert glanced at him before turning back to navigating through the traffic. "You always knew me better than anyone, even myself, and you used that knowledge like a weapon during the years."

Which was true enough. Ethan sighed heavily, remembering those days with distaste and sadness. "I needed you so very badly, and you desired nothing to do with me. So I wanted to hurt you for the crime of making me hurt. I'm sorry. Truly."

"I know. So am I. For all I did to you during that time." Rupert reached for Ethan's hand as he continued ruefully, "No one was ever able to get under my skin like you. I often reacted... badly."

Ethan squeezed Rupert's hand before releasing it so Rupert could use the gearstick. "Enough past trauma. It's a brave new world, and we're going to Oxford together. It's symbolically sound, I think. Although I insist we stop on the way for morning coffee."

Rupert chuckled. "Didn't you get enough before we left home?"

"It's not really the coffee I want," Ethan admitted. "I like eating out with you, even if it's only a teacake or something, and we don't do it a lot."

"No, we don't, but we could do it more if you want," Rupert offered willingly enough.

"Good food that we don't have to prepare ourselves, and you? What was there about that combination that you thought I wouldn't love?" Ethan chuckled.

"The audience?" Rupert paused and then added, "Ah yes, an audience is not a problem for you."

"The busier the restaurant, the easier it would be for me to hide us," Ethan pointed out. "Although that might make attracting a waiter's attention rather difficult."

Rupert reached over and patted Ethan's leg. "I'm sure we'll manage to work something out. Any particular restaurant you want me to show you off at?"

Ethan thought about it. "Well, I quite fancy Gary Rhodes..." He grinned wickedly at Rupert. "His food looks nice too."

"I should've guessed," Rupert said with a good-natured eye roll. Ethan smiled happily and settled back in his seat. This was going to be a pleasant journey.

And indeed it was. With the stop for coffee and what turned out to look a little more like a large late breakfast than a teacake, it took just under two hours before they entered the outskirts of Abingdon, Oxfordshire. Conversation hadn't been constant, but had always been pleasant, and the traffic had been kind to them all the way. Ethan took out the map book as they started searching for the housing estate that Pamela had identified from the clues provided by the Coven.

"This has been nice," Rupert said suddenly. "Especially compared to the last trip I took to retrieve a Slayer."

"The only good thing about that trip was what happened when you got back," Ethan said, remembering the day Rupert had nearly been killed in a road accident because they had stretched the bond too far.

Rupert smiled. "Well, there won't be a repeat of that this time. My desk is currently not available." He paused and then admitted in a more serious tone, "I was fighting this connection as much as I thought I could get away with."

"I'm glad you stopped," Ethan said quietly, understating. He squeezed Rupert's leg, sending a sparkle of magic through his fingers. It wasn't meant to arouse, just to 'touch base' as their Slayers would say.

"So am I," Rupert replied just as quietly, covering Ethan's hand with his own and sending a spark of his magic back. "What I've - _we've_ \- gained far outweighs anything I've lost. I'm not even sure if I have lost anything that mattered at all."

"I certainly haven't." Ethan looked down. "You will say if it ever gets too much, won't you?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if 'too much' even exists, at least when it comes to you."

Ethan was still grinning happily over at Rupert's profile when a passing sign caught his eye. "Erm, I think that was our road."

"Bugger." Rupert signalled for the next turn off and then proceeded to turn the car around. "You're far too distracting, do you know that?"

"My fault," Ethan admitted. "I'm a lousy navigator. I'd much rather look at you than at the roads."

"Which is probably why I've never brought you on one of these jaunts before."

With a slight sigh, Ethan shifted in his seat and faced the windscreen. "I'll endeavour to improve then, shall I?" he asked, a little waspishly.

Rupert reached for his hand again. "My last navigator was Buffy, who spent her time insisting I'd made up all the place names. You're a definite improvement, in more ways than one."

"Next left," Ethan replied efficiently, "then second right and we're there. Buffy really made an impressive effort over Christmas." There were numerous barbs he could have added to that comment, but he found he really didn't want to.

"Yes, she did, as did you." Rupert glanced over at him. "It was noticed and appreciated. Thank you."

"Oh, I'm a pushover for a well-thought out gift, you know that." Ethan chuckled.

"Still, I know she's been a symbol for you of... things."

Ethan didn't answer. He was remembering tattooing Buffy, her wrists bound with magically strengthened rope, her skin taut and shiny as he'd pressed the ink laden needle in. He'd claimed it wasn't personal, but it had been. He'd enjoyed her pain a great deal. He shivered. The memory was undoubtedly his, but it felt... wrong, as if it belonged to someone else.

"Ethan?" Rupert was looking at him with worried eyes.

"I'm all right," he reassured. The car seemed to have stopped, and yes, there was number twenty-nine. "Just a touch of bad memories. All banished now."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure." He patted Rupert's leg. "Pamela says we should find a 'Mrs Friday' here, although she wasn't sure of our Slayer's name. The census records were missing."

"Really?" Rupert frowned. "That's unusual."

"Well, only if they were ever completed in the first place. I can assure you that I appear on no census anywhere, for instance." Ethan gave Rupert an amused look.

"You, I expect not to be on any census," Rupert said, absently taking Ethan's hand and pressing a kiss in the palm. "A to all outward appearances normal teenage girl is another story entirely." He shook his head. "I suppose it could just be a bureaucratic oversight."

Chuckling, Ethan pointed out, "Well, we don't actually know yet what she looks like. Shall we go and see if she has two heads?"

"You have a point. In which case, we'll each have a head to explain things to."

They got out of the car and approached the house. It was a typical small semi, differing from the others in the road only by the sheer amount of plastic toys on the front lawn and the large ginger cat sleeping between the net curtain and the window. Ethan stood a step behind Rupert. He'd never done this before and didn't want to bugger up the important first meeting with a Slayer's family.

Rupert glanced over his shoulder at him and smiled before ringing the doorbell.

The woman who answered had a great deal of very long brown hair, which had been pulled back into an inefficient ball so that at least a third of it now was loose again. She held a small child of indeterminate gender balanced on her hip, and another – almost certainly a boy, Ethan thought - peered around her legs. "Yes?" she asked with a small, rather harassed smile.

"Mrs Friday? I'm Rupert Giles." He handed her a card. "I'm here about your daughter...?"

Her eyes flickered to the child in her arms, but then stared hard at the card. "The Council again?" She stared at Rupert in obvious alarm. "Has something happened? Is Stella all right?"

Rupert frowned. "Again? Someone's been here already?"

"Oh." The woman smiled slightly, looking relieved. "Obviously they've sent you all the way out here on a waste of time, dear. Your people have already been here, two days ago. We had the whole talk about what the Council could offer Stella and off they went with her. Clearly the paperwork hasn't gone through yet. Typical government."

"Yes, these kind of mix-ups do happen," Rupert said, hiding the puzzlement and alarm that Ethan was sure he was feeling. "Just so I can track down the oversight, may I ask who was here earlier?"

"Hmm, a Mrs - no, _Miss_ \- Trenton and her assistant. I don't think I was ever told his name. Funny little man, he was." She winked at Ethan as if he'd understand why. He smiled wanly back at her. "Stella called last night, said she was having a great time and had already made a friend."

Rupert smiled. "I'm glad to hear that she's doing well. I'm sure I can track her paperwork down internally, but it will probably take some time. I don't suppose Stella left any contact information with you?"

Mrs Friday frowned. "Miss Trenton said that we won't be able to ring Stella until her training's over. It's like joining the SAS, she said. Very intensive and secretive, but I have Miss Trenton's number for emergencies."

"If I could trouble you for that...? We'll see what we can do about straightening out this oversight." Rupert was trying his best, but the woman was still frowning. Ethan reached out and tweaked her patterns gently, calming her down. It wasn't strictly ethical, at least by Rupert's standards, but it was short term only, and they needed that information.

Mrs Friday disappeared inside for a few moments while the rather grubby little boy stared at them around the doorframe. Then she came back and handed Rupert a card much like his own. It even, Ethan noticed, gave the mythical Miss Trenton Rupert's position in the Council.

 _'This is... not good,'_ he sent rather redundantly to Rupert.

 _'No, it isn't. We'll discuss it when we leave.'_ Turning his attention fully back to Mrs. Friday, Rupert gave her his best professional smile. "We're sorry to have bothered you, madam. We'll make sure to update the paperwork so that it doesn't happen again."

"Sorry you had to drive out here for nothing," she said with a smile. Her phone started to ring then, so she shut the door on them, leaving them standing on the path with nothing but a small rectangle of card to show for their journey. Well, that and rapidly sinking spirits.

"I should have let you turn her into a Balshat demon when you wanted to," Rupert growled as he carefully wrapped the card in a silk handkerchief and headed back to the car.

Ethan walked quickly after him, feeling a little sick. The last month or so had been so very wonderful, he'd almost forgotten the reality of things. "She can't be working alone, Rupert," he said in a subdued tone as he waited for the doors to be opened. "Francesca Travers is many things, but psychic seer is not one of them. Yet she knew before Keri about this girl?"

Rupert pressed the button on his keyfob that unlocked the doors and opened the driver's side. "No, she's not bloody well working alone, and that's the part that scares me. On her own, despite the trouble she caused us, Francesca isn't any real threat. But teamed with someone of sufficient power, her knowledge becomes a formidable weapon."

Ethan disguised his wince at Rupert's tone, knowing perfectly well it wasn't directed at him. As he got into the car, he glanced worriedly at him. "Don't blame yourself, dear. There's no way on God's green that this can be seen as your fault."

"I should've foreseen this possibility and taken steps to prevent it."

Yes, Ethan had known he was right and that was where Rupert's thoughts had instantly gone. "How?" he asked bluntly. "Other than killing the frozen bitch, exactly what could you have done to stop this?" The grim set of Rupert's mouth told Ethan that he hadn't been thinking of options other than that. Ethan sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Ripper, much though I would have supported that woman's bloody murder at the time, you know as well as I do that blackmail does not normally carry a death sentence with it. Would you like me to drive?"

Rupert hesitated, but then handed the keys over. "Probably best if you do. I'm liable to run us into the back of another bloody lorry the way I'm feeling right now." Without saying a word, Ethan got back out of the car and made his way round to the driver's side.

Rupert didn't speak for a long time until they were well on their way back to London. When he did, it was like he was picking up the conversation where it had stopped. "It's ironic in the extreme that her father wouldn't have had any trouble giving that order."

"Rupert, for Christ's sake, stop castigating yourself for not being a cold-hearted killer!" Ethan slowed their speed. He could feel that the tension that had built up in the car was getting to him.

"Easier said than done when a young girl may pay for my... squeamishness."

"You can't bloody kill people just because they might do something bad!" Ethan found it a little hard to believe that he was the one taking this side in the argument. Rupert's brooding anger was definitely infecting Ethan however, and so, as they happened to be approaching the turn off to services, he indicated and joined the leftmost lane.

"I have, you know," Rupert said quite conversationally, watching out the window as Ethan guided the car off the M40. "Killed someone to keep something bad from happening."

"The boy whose body housed the hell goddess." Ethan nodded, remembering what he'd been told. "I think a hellgod poses a far more evident threat to the world than a woman who at the time was nothing more than a powerless, jobless harridan, don't you? There are many people out there who pose a far more obvious threat to children. Do you want us to go round and kill them all, one by one? I remember you telling me, quite recently, that it wasn't our place to mete out judgement or punishment."

Rupert turned his head to look at Ethan, wearing the tiniest ghost of a smile. "You know, it really is unfair to use my own words against me."

"Perhaps justified in the circumstances," Ethan said, relaxing a little after seeing that small smile. He pulled the car into a space. "Come on, dearheart. Let's see if a spot of lunch and a beverage can make you see sense where I can't."

As soon as Ethan had shut the engine off, Rupert leant over and kissed him. "Thank you."

He felt the tension leave his body completely with the two words. Placing his hand over one of Rupert's cheeks, Ethan stared into green-grey eyes. He wanted to say something deep, but he couldn't think of anything that didn't sound mawkish. Instead, he just murmured, "I love you."

"I know." Rupert covered Ethan's hand with his own. "Luckily for me you do."

"When we get inside here, we'll make a call to the office, wind up Pamela and watch her go. She's smashing at this sort of thing. And we'll call Lucy too." He didn't suggest contacting the police. He knew the Council had their own channels they preferred to use rather than the local nick.

That pulled a smile from Rupert. "Yes, between Pamela and the Coven, we should be able to draw a bead on Francesca quite easily." The smile faded from his face. "Mrs. Friday said her daughter had made a friend. That probably means Stella is not the only Slayer Francesca's kidnapped."

Ethan had noticed that and had hoped against hope that Rupert hadn't. "I doubt she's hurting them, dear. Truly. She wants them for a purpose. To set up a rival Council, I suspect. I imagine that, however much she really considers them tools or weapons, to start with she'll be treating them like she's their over-starched fairy godmother."

Rupert chuckled a little at that description.

Encouraged, Ethan pulled back, patting Rupert's shoulder and trying for a grin. "Come on, old thing. It's been two hours since my second breakfast, and I'm feeling a bit peckish."

"Dear lord, I've married a hobbit."

"I knew I shouldn't have allowed that Boxing Day Lord of the Rings marathon," Ethan scolded with a pretend frown as he got from the car, but really he was very happy to see Rupert smile.


	5. Chapter 5

The new door connecting Giles' office to Ethan's opened, the hinges squeaking slightly. Giles looked up from his paperwork, and in his basket, Gwydion raised his head. Ethan walked in, shutting the door behind him. That same little smile Ethan seemed to get every time he used the adjoining door was on his face, although he dropped it for a more serious expression when he met Giles' gaze. "Any news, dear?"

"The third Slayer Keri tracked – the one in Argentina? - is safe and accounted for," Giles told him, smiling as he was able to relay this one, small victory.

"Oh, that's good. I'm glad." Ethan walked behind Giles' desk and bent to kiss him. "Any news on the American?"

Giles relished the kiss, letting it linger a little longer than necessary. "Ticket bought and paid for. Actually she should be arriving in England more or less as we speak."

"Xander's meeting her at the airport?"

"Yes." Giles smiled faintly. "He has a real knack for putting the girls at ease."

"How are you managing?" Ethan's fingers moved over Giles' temples, smoothing them, even though Giles was sure he wasn't frowning.

It was still a bit of a novelty to have someone worried about him and his moods enough to ask, even now, but Giles was getting better at answering honestly. "I'll feel better when we have hunted down our faux Watcher, but knowing we've got to those two Slayers in time is a relief."

"I think something's hiding her," Ethan said with a dark expression. "Otherwise, between us all, we would have found her by now." He perched on the edge of Giles' desk and folded his arms.

"Agreed. Still, we've got our best scryers and investigators on it. Sooner or later we'll find her." Giles didn't let any doubt creep into his voice.

"You slept badly last night." It was a statement, perhaps even an accusation, but certainly not a question.

"I've definitely had more restful nights," Giles agreed softly, looking down at his desk as he still didn't find it easy to discuss this sort of thing. He'd given up trying to avoid it however; Ethan would just pester him until he gave in. "To be expected, given the circumstances."

"I'll just have to make sure you're limp with exhaustion before you try to sleep tonight." Ethan's expression and tone were deadpan, but Giles knew better.

He smiled and patted Ethan's knee. "I appreciate the sentiment, and I certainly won't say no to any... workout you devise, but I rather fear it won't make much difference." Giles sighed. "Exhaustion doesn't seem like much deterrent to the dreams."

Ethan rubbed his eyes before studying Giles, looking slightly frustrated. "If I ever get physically close enough to Frannie again, I have a quite wondrous curse worked out..."

"Better than the bitch in heat curse?"

"Much." Ethan smirked, looking decidedly evil.

Giles found himself smiling in return and was struck again by how much he loved Ethan. "You're a very bad man."

The smirk broadened into a huge grin. "Thank you, dearheart! Lovely of you to say so." Ethan moved from the desk back to Giles' side, making it clear with his eyes where he wanted to be sitting. Chuckling, Giles pushed his chair back far enough to accommodate a lap full of Ethan, who carefully lowered himself down, settling his weight evenly before wrapping his arms around Giles' neck. "Is it lunchtime yet?" he asked with a quirk of his lips.

"It's barely half past ten," Giles pointed out. Ethan's presence and touch were making him feel better, somehow soothing the worry that had been ever-present since they'd discovered a Slayer was missing.

"Nearly time for elevenses then." Ethan chuckled and the look he gave Giles from under his brow made it clear that he wasn't hungry for food.

"Greedy as ever," Giles accused, even as he gave in and kissed Ethan.

They were interrupted by a frantic scratching sound at the door between their offices. Gwydion, who had been lying quietly in his dog bed in the corner, raised his head again and barked. From the other side of the door, a faint yapping could be heard in reply.

"Bad puppy," Ethan grumbled, pulling back a little. "Can you do your door thing, dear. Save me getting up?"

Gwydion also turned and looked at Giles expectantly. Outnumbered, Giles surrendered with a sigh and reached out with his magic to unlatch the door, letting in a small black and white whirlwind of energy.

Ethan lifted a finger and put a stern expression on his face, stopping Skunk in her tracks before she could jump between them. But then Giles actually saw Ethan's fortitude wilt under the gaze of the golden eyes. "Oh, come on then, wretch," Ethan said, resigned, and Skunk's weight joined Ethan's on Giles' lap.

"Pushover," Giles teased.

Gwydion whined from the corner. Giles rolled his eyes, but caved as quickly as Ethan had, giving his dog the nod that granted permission to come to him.

Ethan giggled as the wolfhound settled by the chair to have his ears petted. "If anyone comes in now your reputation as a stern and resolute leader is well and truly buggered."

"Luckily, Pamela knows better than to let anyone come in without warning." He smiled, knowing it was a bit wolfish. "I think she's afraid of what she'll see if she does otherwise. Especially with you having your own door now."

Ethan moved his puppy onto his own lap and leant against Giles. "That old bastard in accounts had a go at Skunk earlier."

"Oh?" Giles scratched behind Skunk's ears with the hand that wasn't petting Gwydion.

"Yes. We were in the little fifth floor kitchen making tea as that stuff from the machine is bloody awful, and Pammy always gives me a look that says in flashing neon lights that Mrs wotsit is not my minion whenever I try to cadge one from your staff."

Giles smiled. Ethan's running feud with Pamela's office clerk was reaching legendary proportions after the rocky start over a cup of tea the first time he'd brought Ethan here. "I fear that first impressions linger with Mrs. Scott far longer than with most people. I still think she sees a young boy in short trousers visiting headquarters with his father when she looks at me."

"Oh, I don't care about her, but I don't want to make Pammy cross so I go elsewhere. But now it seems Atkins wants me banned from the kitchen too." There was a look that could easily turn into a pout on Ethan's face.

"Why?"

"Something about hygiene." Ethan waved such considerations away with a quick gesture of his hand. Skunk yapped.

Knowing Ethan, as well as knowing Atkins, Giles said carefully, "I think I may need to hear a few more specifics."

Ethan sighed, but reluctantly explained. "Because animals other than working dogs are banned by law from commercial eating establishments, he believes Skunk is somehow going to spread everything from bubonic plague to syphilis simply by sitting on the floor while I make myself a drink."

"And that's all that Skunk was doing?"

"Well, we were having a nice conversation." Ethan ruffled his puppy's ears affectionately. "But barking doesn't carry germs as far as I know."

Ah, yes, that would do it. Atkins had always been the kind of man to jump at any loud noise. A puppy yapping would send him very quickly around the bend. "Tell you what, if you can save the conversations for places not around Atkins, I'll draw up the paperwork to have Gwydion and Skunk both designated Council working dogs."

Ethan grinned. "Thank you, dear. And while you're at it, perhaps, you could just sign this?" He drew a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Giles. It was a completed requisition request form... for a luxury tea and coffee station to be installed in Ethan's office.

"Ethan, I don't even have a tea and coffee station in _my_ office," Giles pointed out.

"You have secretarial staff to make you tea and coffee whenever you want them," Ethan riposted immediately.

"I could probably see about assigning you a secretary if you promised not to torment them."

The delighted grin that won him wasn't exactly reassuring. "I get a minion? Of my own?" Picking up on her master's excitement, Skunk yapped loudly and squirmed about.

"Secretary," Giles corrected, putting emphasis on the word. "Not minion. Vampires have minions. Watchers, at least ones with enough paperwork, have secretaries. And assistants."

"I have lots of paperwork," Ethan claimed happily. That was probably true, being as he had been letting it build up unattended virtually from the moment Giles had first employed him here.

"It would mean you'd actually have to do said paperwork."

"Well, what does the assistant-cum-secretary do then? Other than make me drinks on demand..."

"What does Pamela do for me?" Giles countered, although it wasn't quite a fair question. Pamela had consistently gone above and beyond for him.

"Just about everything?" Ethan asked, putting Skunk down on the floor to commune with Gwydion.

"You make it sound like I don't do anything."

"You make the decisions, dearheart." Ethan kissed him. "You also shuffle a lot of papers, of course, but I'm sure Pammy could shuffle them just as well if you let her."

"Yes, but that would make me rather superfluous, wouldn't it? I'll see what I can do in obtaining an assistant for you," Giles promised, kissing him again, while mentally making a note to ensure said assistant was the kind who would make sure Ethan did the paperwork.

Ethan wriggled closer, and they settled into a deep and loving kiss. It wasn't overtly sexual, just... nice. It was a shame when the phone rang. Most calls were filtered through Pamela, but the pre-programmed tone of the ring told Giles that this one was from someone who had his direct number. One of a select few.

With a regretful sigh, Giles pulled back and answered the phone. "Giles speaking."

There was a great deal of background noise at the other end of the line. "Uh, Giles?" A voice – Xander's? - shouted.

"Xander?" Giles raised his voice, trying to talk over the noise on the line. "Is something wrong?"

"Giles?... fuck, hold on..." There was a brief moment of even more noise and then relative quiet. Xander said, "Better? That you, Giles? I really hope so, or else you're someone thinking he's getting one hell of a heavy breather."

"It's me," Giles confirmed, exchanging concerned glances with Ethan. "What's wrong?"

Xander's voice held considerable worry. "Maria Bucetti wasn't on her flight, Giles, but British Airways say that she checked in at JFK, so we lost her somewhere between the check-in desk and customs."

Giles frowned, tensing and sitting up in his seat. "Bugger." Another one slipped through their fingers. "See what you can find out from there, Xander. We'll see what we can do from this end."

"I should have flown over and met her."

"You had no reason to think that would be necessary," Giles told Xander. "This is far bolder than we ever predicted Francesca would be."

"It's like the Bringers all over again." Giles heard Xander utter a cut off curse. "Gotta go. The next flight from JFK just arrived. It's a different airline. There's no way she can be on it, but I have to check, you know?"

"I know," Giles said softly. "Keep in touch. And Xander? It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either," Xander said quietly before cutting the line.

Giles hung up the phone. "Bugger."

Ethan had remained on Giles' lap for the brief conversation and must have been able to eavesdrop to a large degree, but nonetheless he asked, "Tell me?" while gently stroking Giles' shoulders and upper chest.

"The Slayer that was coming from the States has vanished."

"On the plane?"

"It looks like she never got on. She disappeared somewhere between checking in and customs as near as Xander could figure." Giles rested his head back against the seat cushions and closed his eyes. Another girl lost. Another weight for him to carry.

"Oh don't, dearheart, please? I hate you doing this to yourself." Ethan's fingers touched Giles' face, and Giles felt magic flowing soothingly into him.

He wrapped his arms around Ethan and allowed himself to soak up the comfort just for a moment, but no longer than that because another girl, another Slayer, was missing, and while it might not be his fault, it was his responsibility.

"I'm not sure of the difference, Rupert," Ethan said sourly. Giles could only presume that he had thought too loudly.

"There is a difference, Ethan." Giles sighed again. "I'm just not sure I could explain it in words you'd understand. It doesn't matter what threatens them, it's my responsibility to shield these girls from what I can, and prepare them to face what I can't. Responsibility for the Slayer is bred into me, blood and bone." He managed a tiny smile. "There's just more of them now."

Ethan didn't answer, didn't seem able to find an answer. Eventually, after kissing Giles softly, he slid from his lap. "I suspect you'll want to get back to work. Is there anything I can be doing?"

Giles already missed having Ethan close, but dutifully turned his mind back to business. "I think, given this new development, we need a war council as it were. Do you want to see about setting up a meeting with all the appropriate parties?"

Ethan smiled slightly. "Am I allowed a little Pammy help? She is the holder of the Big Book of Numbers after all."

"Just as long as you don't abscond too far with my assistant," Giles replied, returning the small smile.

***

Giles sank back into his seat as the meeting adjourned and most of the participants left the conference room, leaving only the core few. He doubted he would ever like this aspect of running things, but as meetings at Council headquarters went, this one had been surprisingly productive.

The problem had been laid out and various courses of action had been suggested, some discarded, some approved and implemented. It did feel... satisfying to finally have the power to get these things done without having to argue until he was blue in the face or beat his head against a bureaucracy that refused to listen to reality.

One advantage to being the one in charge, Giles thought.

"So," Buffy started brightly, still sitting in the chair to his right. While she had initially looked a little intimated by the massed ranks of the slowly recovering Council, that had lasted only as long as it took some poor sod to say something she disagreed with. "I get to choose my own taskforce. Neat. Uh...?"

"Pamela will be able to help you with any of the details," Giles told her with a smile.

Buffy gave his assistant a rather fixed grin across the table, and Pamela smiled, saying, "If you come with me now, Miss Summers, I'll help you match your needs with the personnel available."

"Pammy's a wonder worker with this sort of thing, Buffy," Ethan said from where he was looking out of the conference room window. "Sometimes I think she has superpowers of her own."

"She's also really good at the recon for break-ins," Xander put in. "In case you feel like embarking on a career of larceny on the side."

"I'll bear that in mind," Buffy said, standing and walking to the door with Pamela. She turned back before they went out, however. "Giles, I'll call as soon as we touch ground in NYC. Xander, I'm counting on you to keep a close eye on Dawn. She's all on her own in that Cambridge place and..." Buffy frowned.

"No problem," Xander promised. "It's not that far away. I'll drive down and make surprise inspections."

"We'll all make sure Dawn's doing well," Giles assured her, smiling at his Slayer. "You don't have to worry about that."

"I know." She smiled warmly at him, but then turned back to Xander. "If there's even a hint of a boyfriend, I want to know immediately!" Buffy shut the door behind her before anyone had the chance to react to that.

"I'll just add family spying to my job description," Xander muttered and then gathered his stuff up as he stood. "Speaking of spying, I'll go check in with surveillance, make sure they've now got all the Slayers who declined to come in for training covered. We don't want to lose another one because we were slow getting into play."

Ethan turned around from the window, his mouth open to say something to Xander, but then he shut it again and leant back against the sill. He gave the young man a small smile. Xander returned the smile, nodded at both of them and headed out, which left Giles and Ethan alone in the conference room.

Ethan looked across the table at Giles, his arms folded and a slight frown on his face. Then as Giles was about to ask if anything was wrong, Ethan seemed to shake himself and pushed away from the window. He came and stood by Giles, looking strangely uncertain.

"What is it, love?" Giles asked, reaching out a hand to Ethan.

"I beg permission to approach our fearless leader," Ethan replied with a strongly ironic tone of voice, but he took Giles' hand and moved closer.

Giles tugged on Ethan's hand until he took his accustomed spot in Giles' lap. "Talk to me, Ethan."

Ethan wrapped his arms around Giles' neck and nuzzled at his face. "I'm all right," he claimed. "Now. How are you?"

"Better. There is more than a little satisfaction in knowing we've reorganised enough that things can actually get done now."

"Good," Ethan drew back enough to smile gently then bent again for a kiss.

Giles obliged him and then pulled back to ask, "Do you think we could do a scrying ourselves? I know we have the Council's mages on it, but–"

Ethan nodded. "Of course, but can we do it at home?"

"I'd definitely feel more comfortable trying something like this at home."

Ethan immediately looked a bit brighter. "I'll drive," he offered.

"There's still things I have to do here first," Giles said apologetically. "I know this place isn't your favourite–"

Ethan looked away, but not before Giles saw his disappointment. "I'm sure I'll be able to find something to do."

Inwardly, Giles cursed. This was one of the things that had led him to fight the bond for so long, and even now it made him feel... a lot of things: guilty, scared, restless, a whole miasma of negativity. "I'm sorry."

"No need." Ethan slipped from Giles' lap. "I'll get out of your hair so that you can get whatever it is done." He started walking to the door, without even a glance back at Giles. "You'll be able to find me easily enough once you're finished, I'm sure."

Giles stared after him for a long moment, feeling torn. He wanted to chase after Ethan and tell him they'd leave right then, but there were things he had to accomplish here before he could in good conscience do so. And part of him was just feeling petulant, resenting that something he'd been assured wouldn't be a problem seemed to be just that.

Swearing quietly to himself, Giles did his best to push all of that out of his mind and get down to work. The sooner he finished organising the new assignments to deal with Francesca, the sooner he could go find Ethan, and they could hash this out.

***

"I'm going to put the kettle on," Ethan said immediately they got home and sped to the kitchen, pulling the door to behind him.

Ethan's hair was damp, and despite the car's heater being full on him all the way home, he still felt chilled inside his bones. His body never really had adapted back to the English climate. Of course, this particular chill had more to do with him deciding in a fit of insanity that hanging about on the roof of the Council building for an hour was somehow a good idea. He knew how his actions would appear to Rupert and wasn't looking forward to the conversation that he could tell was brewing, but he'd had to get out of that place, and the bond and the mutual agreement to not go out on their own meant he'd been limited in where he could go to escape.

Rupert didn't follow him into the kitchen, but Ethan could hear the murmur of his voice in the next room as he dealt with the dogs. It was a deeply comforting sound. Going through the motions of putting the kettle on, Ethan only then realised that he did rather fancy a warming drink. He nibbled on the last few Christmas biscuits while he waited for it to boil.

Rupert's voice became distant, and Ethan deduced that Rupert had headed into the study to let the dogs out into the garden.

When the kettle boiled, Ethan lazily used teabags to make a couple of mugs of tea. Almost as an afterthought, he added two spoonfuls of sugar to his, something he normally hated. Then, bracing himself, he lifted the mugs, pulled the door open with his foot, and went out to face the music.

Rupert was just coming back in from the study, the two dogs chasing each other ahead of him. "I think they're happy to be home," he said dryly.

As was Ethan, but he resisted saying it. It wasn't as if Rupert didn't already know. He put their mugs on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. "I thought perhaps, as it's late, that we could order a takeaway. Get plenty so that there's still some for Megan when she gets in." Megan was out with a bunch of the other Slayers on a regular patrol mission.

"Sensible," Rupert agreed, coming over and sitting down beside Ethan. "And avoids any possible cooking related emergencies."

"Thai?"

"If you want." Rupert leant over and picked up his mug.

Rupert may have sat down beside Ethan, but he wasn't exactly being affectionate. He didn't seem angry as such, just... distant. Ethan leant forward to pick up his own mug and stayed there with his elbows on his knees so that his face was hidden from Rupert. He shut his eyes and breathed in the steam from his mug.

"We need to talk about it," Rupert finally said.

Ethan swallowed a sarcastic comment with a mouthful of hot tea, saying only, "All right," instead in as mild a tone as he could manage. Skunk had sat down close to his feet and was staring up at him in a way that seemed... sympathetic?

"You said you wouldn't have a problem being at Council Headquarters when I had to be there," Rupert continued after a pause.

"I did, yes." Again, as mild as mare's milk. Ethan took another sip of his tea and tried not to long quite so hard for Rupert to touch him. He felt Rupert's presence behind him like a fire he was too close to... or not close enough.

"You had a problem today." Rupert's voice was still level, calm, the one he used when not letting his emotions out. Ethan noticed Gwydion's forepaws sticking out from Rupert's side of the sofa. The dogs, it seemed, could sense the tension.

"Yes, I did. There's an easy answer to it. I'll simply avoid the more formal meetings from now on." Would he be allowed to leave it at that? Ethan's lips crimped. He doubted it somehow.

"I can't– Sometimes I have to be there. There are things I have to do, and I can't just leave."

"I never asked you to."

"But you wanted to."

"The meeting was... difficult for me." Insufferable more like, but understatement seemed advisable currently. "I became a trifle claustrophobic. Next time, I'll stay in my office, and the matter won't arise." The longer he sat in their warm house drinking hot tea, the colder Ethan felt inside. Rupert still wasn't touching him. The bond was starting to ache, and surely Rupert could feel that too, couldn't he?

"I'm sorry." Now emotion had crept into Rupert's voice, and it wasn't one that Ethan liked to hear. "This was why..." Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan saw Rupert shake his head. "I never wanted to make you feel trapped."

Ethan put his mug carefully down on the table and leant back on the sofa. Perhaps if he just let his legs fall open so that their thighs touched, it would be enough. "Rupert, you didn't. The meeting did. There's a difference. Not everything that happens to people is your fault, you know."

"A meeting you were only at because of me." Rupert shifted and rested a hand on Ethan's leg. "Because of the bond. I want to keep you near, but I never wanted to put you on a lead or in a cage."

Ethan shut his eyes and released a heartfelt sigh as he put his hand on top of Rupert's. "You talk like it's something you have control over. You don't, I'm afraid. This isn't up to you, dearheart. The bond is the bond and that, my dear, is that."

Rupert laughed, the sound more weary than humorous. "That, I fear, is what scares me."

Ethan twisted on the sofa so that he was facing Rupert more or less. "I can't not be who I am," he started as earnestly as he knew how. "Anymore than you can. All both of us can do is compromise. I'm compromising by being in a place that is somewhat anathema to my nature. You're compromising by letting me hang about when we both know I don't really serve any useful purpose there. As far as I'm concerned, the bond, being with you, is easily worth the occasional moment when I feel like a cornered animal."

Rupert took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. "You're wrong about one thing," he said, turning his hand under Ethan's so they could entwine fingers. "You do serve a useful purpose, even if it's only to anchor me, and you do a great deal more than that."

Ethan gave Rupert a ragged smile as he squeezed his hand. "Who'd ever have thought I'd turn out be a grounding personality?"

Rupert returned the smile and then moved to pull Ethan into his arms. "I'm still sorry." The hug was pure bliss, and Ethan didn't want to interrupt it to point out that it was rather silly Rupert being sorry when if anyone was at fault it was Ethan. Instead, he lifted his head for a kiss. He was obliged immediately, Rupert leisurely tasting his lips before pulling back to remark, "You put sugar in your tea."

"I was cold," Ethan said. Well, it made sense to him. "Warm me up?"

"That's what you get for moping on the roof in January," Rupert told him, but nonetheless directed his magic along Ethan's skin like a warm breeze.

"Oh." Ethan moaned softly and closed his eyes, letting himself bathe in Rupert's magic. "I needed this so badly." In case Rupert too needed such contact, Ethan moved his hands up to cup Rupert's face and fed magic through his fingertips.

He felt Rupert's soft exhalation of pleasure as warm breath against his face just before Rupert kissed him again.

The strong need he'd felt for contact with Rupert was now turning inevitably into a more specific need. Ethan moved one of his hands down to Rupert's leg, squeezing and slipping between his thighs. "Rupert..." he murmured as their lips broke momentarily apart.

"I know," Rupert said before devouring Ethan's mouth again, pulling him even closer.

Moaning deep in his throat, Ethan submitted to the hard kiss joyfully, while he moved his hand a little further up to cup Rupert's growing erection, squeezing and rubbing. The moan was echoed by Rupert as his hand moved to mirror Ethan's, pressing against Ethan's cock through his trousers. Ethan grunted, his hips thrusting awkwardly forward in instinctive response.

Moving suddenly, Ethan clambered up onto the couch and astride Rupert's legs, breaking the kiss for no more than a second in order to do so. Now that he had both of his hands available, he made quick work of undoing Rupert's trousers.

Rupert growled, his own fingers going to work on Ethan's belt and zip.

Ethan always wanted Rupert. Always. But never more than when there had been even just a hint of tension between them. The urge to reconnect, to soothe both the bond and his own insecurities, translated unnoticeably into a fierce and frequently overwhelming lust. While the long kiss broke into many smaller ones, he took Rupert's cock into both his hands and squeezed gently, rubbing with his thumbs and sending tendrils of power out to stimulate further. Rupert breathed Ethan's name against his mouth and in his mind, magic swirling out from him to curl around and caress Ethan all over.

Ethan gasped and writhed. "This is your fault," he accused breathlessly, but then had to stop talking for a few seconds as Rupert took hold of his cock.

"How is this my fault?" Rupert's voice was growing husky as his fingers stroked Ethan's erection.

Ethan looked down between them, each of their hands moving slowly, synchronised without conscious decision. "This is what happens when you won't touch me."

"But I am touching you."

"Now." Ethan laughed suddenly, moving so that their cocks touched intermittently. "Good way to warm up, this. Rubbing two long hard things together to make fire."

Rupert snorted. "Like you don't throw off sparks every time I look at you." He kissed Ethan again, making a thorough job of it. Ethan closed his eyes and just concentrated on the sensations of Rupert's hands and lips, Rupert's magic, Rupert's love. He moaned softly. He could willingly lose himself forever in a world that consisted of nothing but Rupert and what he gave him.

But Rupert's hands were too clever and his magic too potent, and Ethan could already feel the pressure mounting: the tightening, the pulling in, ready for the eruption. "Ripper," he groaned, dragging himself back far enough to stare at Rupert's face. He saw all his own feelings, voiced and unvoiced, echoed in Rupert's eyes, and then Rupert was leaning in to kiss him again as their climax overtook them both.

As they recovered together, Ethan slumped forward against Rupert, laughing as their sudden need for a change of shirts became apparent. There was a movement on the couch beside them, and he pulled back to see what had caused it only to be greeted by two pairs of curious doggy eyes. Ethan curled up in helpless giggles.

"Oh lord..." Rupert said, obviously trying to sound mortified, but the smile that kept twitching at the corner of his lips ruined the effect.

"I think," Ethan said, between chortles, "That they're being very... well behaved, all considered." Before Rupert could answer, Gwydion turned around on the sofa and barked towards the lobby.

Then they heard the key in the lock of the front door.

"Bugger!" In the rush to get themselves semi-presentable, Ethan didn't even have a chance to appreciate the comical 'oh shit' expression on Rupert's face. Mainly because, in true coward's fashion, Ethan staggered straight to the kitchen to hide while he cleaned himself up, leaving Rupert to face Megan alone.

Through the kitchen door, Ethan heard the murmurs of Megan's and Rupert's voices for a few brief seconds, and then that door was opening, revealing his Slayer.

Turning his back fully to her as paper towels could only do so much, Ethan said weakly, "Hello, dear. Nice day? You're back earlier than expected." Much earlier. He rummaged through the drawer in front of him for something... anything...

"Yeah, pretty good day. I'm back earlier because we're so efficient with the patrolling." He could hear the smile in her voice.

From the other room, Rupert called out, "I'm going to go upstairs." Where there was a shower. And clean clothes. Leaving Ethan all alone with paper towels and a curious Slayer.

Salvation of a sort was at hand. Literally, it seemed, as Ethan's fingers closed upon the menu for the Green Dragon, their favourite Thai takeway. Without turning, he held it up for Megan to take. "Well, as you're here now, you can make yourself useful and order tea. Get whatever you fancy, just make sure there's plenty." Then Ethan whistled, summoning his puppy to his side.

The sound of running paws preceded Skunk's appearance, claws skidding on the floor as she tried to avoid colliding with Megan.

Ethan felt the menu being taken from his hand and then turned just enough to bend and lift Skunk into his arms. "Good dog," he praised, turning fully to face Megan now that all possible incriminating evidence was shielded. "Bad Slayer," he told her with a smile.

Megan just stuck her tongue out at him. "Are you going to go upstairs and check on Giles so I can stop pretending I didn't see what I saw?"

Grinning, Ethan moved past her, doing what he was told. "Maybe next time you're coming home early, you'll think to use that nice Council mobile you were allocated."

"Maybe next time, you'll remember you have a bedroom. Or at least a study."

Ethan laughed as he started walking upstairs. "So tea-drinking is an activity banned from the front room now, is it?"

"Is that what they called it in your day?" Megan called after him.

"Oh yes, dear. We had quite prodigious tea parties back then." Sniggering, Ethan put Skunk down at the top of the stairs and headed for the bedroom.

He walked in on a mostly undressed husband; Rupert was just pulling on clean underwear when Ethan came in. Seeing that bare arse sticking out was too much to resist, so Ethan slapped it.

"Bad husband," he scolded.

"I'm not the one who ran for it first," Rupert pointed out in his 'I am an eminently logical Watcher' voice. "I just picked a better destination to run to."

Ethan began to strip. "Maybe we should ward the pavement outside for a few yards in either direction," he suggested impracticably.

"Or at least chain the door." With only his underwear on, Rupert leant back against the chest of drawers and watched Ethan undress with an appreciative smile.

Naked, Ethan grinned at him. "She's ordering the grub. Do you still want to do the scrying tonight?"

Rupert nodded. "If you're up to it, yes. I'll feel better if we, personally, were doing something as well."

Ethan walked close to Rupert and placed a flat hand on his t-shirted chest. "When have I ever turned down the chance to work magic with you?"

"Never," Rupert replied with a tiny smile, covering Ethan's hand with his own. "But I didn't want to presume."


	6. Chapter 6

"There's just ten minutes before the witching hour, dear. Stop faffing about with candles and come sit down." Ethan grinned up at Giles from within the chalk circle they had drawn on the study carpet.

Giles lit one last candle then carefully crossed over the circle's line to settle on the floor cross-legged across from Ethan. "This position seemed a lot easier when we were young," he complained.

Ethan, whose own knees had cracked loudly when he'd lowered himself, nodded ruefully. "It's all right once you're down, I've found. Now, how do you want to do this? I have maps, a pendulum, marbles, pixie dust, those ghastly Crowley cards, and I was going to fill a bowl with water to look into, but then I thought of this."

He held up the mirror Giles had given him for his birthday, the wooden frame and handle carved with foxes and badgers. There was a certain elegant symbolism in using the mirror that appealed to Giles. "Yes, I think that would do nicely."

Smiling, Ethan said, "I hoped you'd say that." He moved around so he was facing away from Giles, out of the circle. "We'll need to be spooned, I think."

"All right," Giles said, trusting Ethan's instincts when it came to things like this. He moved so that he was directly behind Ethan, close enough to feel the heat of his body with his legs to either side.

"Do you want to say any ritual words, dear?" Ethan asked. "We've not done this before together, not ever I don't think. I'm not sure what you like."

"It's not something I've done much of either. There were a few... dabblings when I was searching out Potentials last year, but they weren't very sophisticated." He grimaced. "I was still in my magic leads to badness mindset."

"I think," Ethan said decisively, "that we should scrap the rote. We have the protective circle, and that's enough." He lifted the mirror and looked into it. "Put your hands on mine?"

Giles smiled, sliding his arms around Ethan to take his hands. "Always, in any way you mean it."

Ethan chuckled and tilted the mirror to reflect both their faces. Their expressions grew more serious as they looked into the glass. Then Ethan started talking in a low, significant tone. "Concentrate now, while I utter the invocation. Romper, bomper, stomper, boo. Tell me, tell me, tell me do. Magic mirror, tell me today. Did all my friends have fun at play?"

Giles couldn't hold back a surprised laugh. "So which of us, Ethan, is Do-bee?"

"Oh you, dearheart. Definitely." Ethan's reflection grinned.

"So I guess that means I need to sting you later." Giles liked this. When he was young, before meeting Ethan, magic had always been serious stuff. It felt good to have laughter and humour mixed in with it now.

"Sounds like a plan," Ethan chuckled, wriggling back against Giles. Then his face in the mirror became serious again, and he closed his eyes. Suddenly Giles found himself seeing with pattern sight once more. "I'll provide the ocean," Ethan said, "and the craft, but you are our navigator and captain."

"Right," Giles murmured, letting himself sink further into the magic and the pattern that Ethan was letting him see.

Ethan was very quiet for a while, and to start with, Giles wondered if he was meant to be doing something, but then his vision moved again, lifting up and looking down upon the circle, upon them. "Keep calm, dearheart," Ethan said soothingly. "I'm finding us a better perspective."

"I'm in your hands, love."

"Funny. I thought I was in yours." With a vertigo-inducing swoop, Giles felt his point of view jerked upwards again, through the ceiling, and into Megan's bedroom. Both dogs, who were being allowed to sleep in there as a treat so that they wouldn't disturb the scrying, looked up from the floor and stared directly at Giles... or at whatever part of him Ethan was pulling around.

"We've an audience," Giles murmured as he stared back at the two puppies.

"Shh," Ethan murmured, and Giles wasn't sure if Ethan was talking to him or Skunk. Then there was another lurch upwards, through the roof, and this time they didn't stop. Surging up through the night sky, Giles watched their house, their street, get smaller. Ethan asked, "We are thinking this country for Fran-the-sham, yes?" It was odd, hearing Ethan's voice so clearly with the body he'd left behind in the house below.

"Yes," Giles replied, and it was just as odd to be speaking. "For better or worse, England seems to be the centre point. She'll want to be close to the heart of it."

The city below was no more than many dots of light now, some of them moving, some still. "This is probably high enough. Let me ramp things up a little." Before Giles could ask what Ethan meant, almost all trace of normal vision vanished, to be replaced by an intricate three-dimensional network of moving multicolour threads and interweavings. "Christ," Ethan breathed, obviously impressed himself. "We would have died for an experience like this when we were young and stupid."

Giles was just as impressed with Ethan. "We certainly tried many other ways to fly. This puts the whole Chitty Chitty Bang Bang experience to shame."

"Well, here's the ocean, dearheart. Now you get to sail it. I suggest we both think hard about the bitch, not our emotions, but what we actually know about her. Then you steer us where you will."

"Right." Giles ran through everything he knew about Francesca in his mind: how she looked, moved, sounded, the annoying way she had of looking down her nose even at those taller than her, the bitter disapproving frown she seemed to wear perpetually.

They, or at least their conscious presence above London, started to slowly move. West, Giles thought, but it was hard to tell really. He felt Ethan shiver in his arms, back in the house.

Giles automatically tightened his grip on Ethan in response. "What is it?" he asked softly, still keeping the image of Francesca firmly in the front of his mind.

"Look down, Rupert. See all those dark red knots dotted about?" There were indeed a number of darker patches within the pattern network, opaque and writhing like nests of snakes.

"Yes." He didn't like the look of them, the feel of them, at all. They felt.... jarring, like a song being played just a tone out of tune.

"Chaos."

"Good Lord."

"Dark Chaos hotspots." Ethan sounded... angry? "I know we've never done this before, but I find it hard to believe there are usually this many."

"I'm sure there's not. We've had a rise in reports of Chaotic activity for several months now, but this..." Giles shook his head. "Seeing it... makes it more real."

Ethan's hands moved slightly within Giles'. "I'm not sure how long I can do this. We should find Uberbitch while we can."

"Right." Giles returned his concentration to the task at hand, and slowly they began to drift to the west again.

It was a slow movement, almost sedate, and it perhaps should have lulled Giles into a meditative calm, but instead the level of concentration he was trying to maintain, as well as the surreality of Ethan's gifted vision, made Giles impatient and almost anxious. He was beginning to worry what would happen if they moved too far from their bodies, when his attention was drawn by one of the knots of Chaos in the array.

His thoughts of Francesca seemed to connect somehow to that knot, a tenuous but visible thread rising from the dark nexus to hover in front of them, or in front of where they perceived themselves anyway. He really didn't have the vocabulary for this.

"Looks like we might have a connection," he murmured, focusing on the information and leaving the logistics of how they were gaining it for later. Francesca and Chaos... On the one hand, it seemed absolutely logical that she would join up with the main threat against the Council in general and him and Ethan in particular, but on the other, Francesca was one of the last people he would have considered aligning herself with Chaos, so hidebound and obsessed with rules and traditions was she.

"That's not what I would have predicted." Ethan sounded tense. "Rupert, if she's allied with Chaos..."

"We'll have all our enemies in one place and won't need to fight a war on two fronts?" Giles sighed. "I know, but we'll deal with it."

"Chaos and Order working together like this, organised Chaos... It's unnatural."

"Some would say the same about us," Giles reminded gently.

"That's not at all the same… is it?" Ethan snorted. "Well, maybe it's similar. But we're more… guided intuition… or something."

"We did it first."

"We do it better. I can't imagine Frannie doing anything like this, can you? She'd have an instant breakdown as her limited reality dissolved." Ethan tightened his hands below Giles', clenching the mirror's handle. "Shall we take a closer look?"

Giles tightened his own grip over Ethan's hands. "All right," he said, bracing himself.

The thread leading down to Francesca Travers' possible location strengthened and became more opaque, presumably in reaction to something Ethan was doing. "Haul us in, dearheart," he said, his voice a little strained.

Not sure exactly how to do it, Giles just went with his instincts, concentrating and doing... something that got them moving down the thread.

Giles had no idea where in England this knot, this nexus they were heading to, actually was. He could only hope Ethan knew how this 3D tapestry corresponded to the real world. As they got closer to the nexus, he could see a strange dark area beside it, an area where there were no threads of any kind. He was just about to ask Ethan about it when he saw something appear from within the dark spot, rising up towards them rapidly. He couldn't tell what it was, but he was positive that it wasn't something they wanted to tangle with, not when they were so vulnerable, pulled so far from their bodies and unprepared. "I think we best make a strategic–" Giles began, but the thing, the presence was on them before he could even finish the sentence.

It enveloped them in darkness, in Chaos. Giles felt like he had after touching that pouch, or moreso, back on that train when he'd almost died. But this was more than just Chaos. There was an intelligence here, a malevolent presence that hated and hungered and wanted their confusion, their pain. Red eyes, fur like smoke, claws and a muzzle full of teeth that wanted to rip into them, minds and bodies both, rip _through_ them until blood and magic flowed equally from mortal wounds, tearing the two of them apart...

"Fuck!" he heard from Ethan, his voice more furious than Giles had ever heard it. "No, you bloody well won't!" Giles felt some of his power being pulled from him, and for a fraction of a second he resisted, until he realised it was Ethan pulling, mixing it with his own to make something greater. "Fight back, Rupert. Use this. You have to be the focus here. I'll get us home."

Giles had already started instinctively blocking the attacks, his magic and mind forming a shield for them to clash against. Now, to the shield, he added a sword, formed out of their melded will, bright with their magic, that seemed to burn the darkness around them as much as it cut through it.

The Chaos... thing hurt appallingly wherever it touched Giles, the pain somehow being felt in his body, but it was clear that his sword hurt the whatever it was in turn, producing screams audible only in his mind but no less deafening for that.

Ethan, meanwhile, was pulling them back, increasingly rapidly. The pattern network blurred around Giles as he was swept backwards. The faster they moved, the harder Giles fought to sever the connections the Presence was trying to make and hold onto, although it was something like fighting a psychic hydra. For every tendril Giles sliced through, two more seemed to pop up in its place.

It seemed to be having problems keeping up, however, the gap between them slowly increasing. Making what was probably a last ditch effort, the thing seemed to condense itself, becoming small and inky black, looking like a rip in the fabric of the pattern reality. The white teeth in its savage muzzle and its swirling red eyes were the only substance in that absence of anything at all.

Then it surged forward, swiping at them with an arm formed of void wielding razor claws.

There was a scream; whose mouth it came from Giles couldn't have said as cold seemed to cut into his – their? - bones, and there was a noise like the smashing of a thousand windows.

Then with a jolt it was over. Giles was back in his body, back in the study. A quick review revealed both of them were apparently Chaos-free, but Ethan was panting and trembling in his arms.

"Are you all right?" Giles asked, tightening his embrace, not willing to let go of Ethan just yet.

"No." The single word was quiet, almost distant.

"Ethan." Alarm skittered along nerves already drawn taut and raw by what they had just been through. Giles pulled back, but only enough to get Ethan to turn and face him.

There was blood splattered on Ethan's face, just a little. Looking down, Giles could see it had clearly splashed there from Ethan's hands, and perhaps also from his own, as he suddenly realised they were stinging. Ethan still held the mahogany mirror in his hands, but the glass had smashed into myriad needle-thin daggers. Ethan's hands were studded with them as were his legs below. And yes, Giles had broken off shards impaling his own skin.

"Fuck." It seemed an appropriate reaction.

"Rupert..." Ethan's voice had the hollow calm of someone lost to fear.

"It's all right. We're all right." He moved to take the broken mirror from Ethan's hands but stopped at the many sharp pricklings in his hands from the glass. There was a cantrip he'd learned years ago to remove splinters. With an instant's thought, Giles gathered his magic and murmured, " _Fragmentum externus disperge_ ," adapting it to the current situation.

The glass fell instantly into sparkling dust that blew away on a non-existent breeze, disappearing. At a different time, Giles would have felt proud of himself, improvising so easily, but that time was not now. Ethan's hands were dripping blood, those patches of skin not red and sticky, were white with the force he was still gripping the mirror's handle.

"Ethan..." Giles reached for the mirror again. "You can let go now."

"No."

"Yes." Giles kept his voice firm, but as reassuring as he could. "It's all right. I've got it. I've got you."

Ethan was staring fixedly at the dull wood wherein the mirrored glass had been inlaid. Then suddenly he snorted loudly, and the frame dropped into Giles' hands as Ethan stood up. He walked to the French windows to stare out into the dark. "Those who play with people as if they're toys enjoy using superstition to make their puppets dance," he said coldly. "I know their tricks as if they were my own." He laughed. It was far from a nice sound. "Funny, that."

Giles got up and carefully placed the mirror frame on his desk before moving to Ethan's side. "It, whatever it was, broke the mirror because it couldn't break us. The mirror can be repaired. As for superstition, we seem to be the focus of far too much, prophetically speaking, for any mere superstition to affect us."

"I wish we'd used a different mirror," Ethan said quietly. "That one, I... Oh, to hell with it." He turned and held out his hands. "Shall we find some bandages before we totally destroy the carpet?"

"Might be a bit late for that," Giles said looking at the mess where they'd been sitting. "But bandages would be called for, yes."

Ethan was pale and still visibly trembling, but he seemed to be with Giles again, not off somewhere unpleasant. "Are you hurt beyond your hands?" he asked Giles.

Giles shook his head, even as he took a quick inner stock. "No," he said, once again following his instincts and pulling Ethan into his arms in spite of their injuries. "It looks like you got the worst of it."

Ethan kept his hands clenched together, but he relaxed against Giles clearly relishing the hug. "I'm trying very hard not to panic," he said, nuzzling Giles' face, "But that thing... "

"Is gone for now." Giles turned his head enough to place a gentle kiss on Ethan's lips. "We'll be better prepared when next we meet it." He didn't even try to deny that they would meet whatever it was again.

"The Uberbitch and that... void beast? Together? Rupert, we..." Ethan shook his head sharply, and pulled from Giles' arms. "Let's get to the bathroom before I start to look like I've been swimming in red paint." He strode to the door, but hesitated with his hand out before opening it. Sighing, Ethan pulled his sleeve down over one hand and used that hand to open the door.

Giles followed Ethan out into the living room and up the stairs. "The room will clean, as will the doorknobs, but yes, I rather like you to keep most of your bodily fluids inside your body."

"All of them?" Ethan asked a little archly. "That seems a bit unfair." Humour was definitely a good sign. They walked into the bathroom together, and Giles turned the light on. Ethan pulled a face at himself in the mirror. "I seem to have slipped with the blusher."

"How careless of you. Sit down," Giles said, reaching for the first aid supplies.

Ethan hesitated before obeying. "Do you want my trousers off?"

"Quite often, yes," Giles replied with a bit of smile.

Ethan gave him a pointed look, but the corners of his mouth were definitely twitching upwards. He put his hands to his belt and started to undo it, wincing. "Who's going to bandage you, dearheart?"

Giles looked down at his own hands. "I'm not as badly injured as you. but you can see to me after we get you taken care of, if you like."

"Better not bind my fingers too tightly then." The trousers fell to the floor. Not exactly blood-soaked, but definitely blood-dampened. It seemed to be mostly Ethan's knees and calves that had been punctured by the glass. Ethan kicked the trousers to the side and sat down on the lid of the loo, holding his hands out. They were sticky with blood, still oozing from several of the deeper wounds.

Giles cleaned the cuts as gently and thoroughly as he could and then quickly bandaged up those that were still bleeding. "Okay?" he asked eventually, looking up at Ethan.

"You'd pass the first aid exam," he said with a small smile. "Thank you. Shall I do yours now? I can probably manage my legs by myself. They only caught a little of the shrapnel."

"I can do them," Giles said, a bit more sharply than he intended. He gave an embarrassed smile and explained, "I like taking care of you."

Ethan's face sank into a glad smile, and it was only then that Giles realised how tense and miserable Ethan had been looking still. "I think," Ethan said, just a little hesitantly, "once we've recovered a little, we need to contemplate some more magic,"

"You have something in mind?" Giles asked as he knelt to see to the cuts on Ethan's legs.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's just superstition, but we mystics deal in symbols. We work _through_ symbols, and that mirror was a potent symbol of us." Ethan paused and swallowed before continuing. "That Chaos-beast's attack may not have hurt us physically, but I think we have been wounded on a different level, Rupert. We should work-" he lifted his hands expansively "-protective magic and binding spells, repairing the damage and fortifying our defences." Ethan looked hard at Giles before he finished. "We may know roughly where they are now, but they know where we are too."

"They always have." Giles rather suspected that had been true far longer than either of them would like to admit. "But added protection can be nothing but prudent." He also thought that working magic together again right away would be much like getting back on the horse after being bucked off. He didn't want to take a chance of his old phobias reasserting themselves.

He felt Ethan's bandaged fingers slipping through his hair, combing and stroking.

Giles looked up and met his eyes, smiling ruefully. "You know exactly what I'm thinking, don't you?"

"Patterns are my speciality," Ethan acknowledged with a wry smile. "But I strongly suspect you know where my thoughts keep taking me too, and you don't have that excuse."

"I'm good at languages. Ethan-ese may have given me problems at times over the years, but I feel I'm fairly fluent in it now."

Ethan's legs were finished. He stood and waved at his vacated seat. "Now it's my turn to be the carer. And then I suppose we better tidy up downstairs. I don't want Megan to stumble on that mess tomorrow morning."

Giles took Ethan's seat and obediently held out his hands. "Agreed. We don't want her thinking we sacrificed a goat or something."

Ethan cleaned Giles' hands with great care, pausing to kiss clean patches every once in a while. "I'm such a Pavlov's dog," he murmured.

"Are you?" Giles asked affectionately.

Ethan glanced up at him, grinning just a little crookedly. "Kneeling at your feet like this, it's having the predictable effect. Despite everything."

Giles returned the grin and leaned over to kiss him. "After we finish what we have to do, we might be able to indulge Pavlov's dog."

"Really, we're obliged to," Ethan claimed. "Vital rebonding work."

"Work, work, work," Giles teased.

"It's a hard job..." Ethan started and left it at that. Giles just chuckled and kissed him again.

***

"Well, this has been an interesting night," Rupert remarked with dry humour as they got ready for bed.

"One of our finest," Ethan replied, resorting to sarcasm. His hands hurt. His legs didn't feel anything much more than itchy from the bandaid adhesive, but his hands prickled and throbbed. In ideal circumstances, they should have waited longer before improvising such an elaborate protection ritual as the one they'd just completed, but circumstances were far from ideal.

"I've had worse days," Rupert offered, finishing undressing and sliding beneath the covers. He held them up for Ethan to join him.

Pulling off his last sock, Ethan obliged, but he sat up, leaning against the headboard, not yet ready to lie down despite his fatigue. His mind kept going back to his mirror. "I cried like a baby when you gave it to me," he said, only exaggerating a little. "Do you remember?"

Rupert, as usual, was easily able to follow his train of thought. "I remember," he said, reaching over for Ethan's hand. "It's just the glass that's broken. I'm sure it can be fixed."

"I should know better than to let things gain significance beyond their practical use. I do know better." But symbols, as he'd said earlier, were unavoidably important to those with a mystical bent. He played his gaze over their wedding rings, glinting on their joined hands.

"Symbols _are_ important," Rupert said, uncannily echoing Ethan's unspoken words. "There's nothing wrong with attaching significance to such things, and in the end, this is just going to make the mirror all that much more significant. It's broken, we'll fix it; we'll hold it even more valuable because of that." He smiled faintly. "Rather like us."

Oh, and that worked so very well as an analogy. Ethan smiled gratefully at Rupert. "You're quite right. To be truly a symbol of us, the mirror needed to be broken, and by Chaos too, but I will feel a lot happier when it's in one piece again." He stroked his bandaged fingers over Rupert's cheek. "You're a very wise man."

"I have the occasional moment of brilliance," Rupert said with a self-effacing smile.

Freeing his left hand momentarily, Ethan raised it to stroke over the brand on his right arm, the badger mark Rupert had placed there. Almost invisible unless he used a form of mystical sight, the symbol was subtle, but his fingers could feel it even without enhancement. "They can't take this one from me... Well, I hope they can't." He laughed a little hollowly.

Rupert shifted, leaning over to place a kiss directly on the brand. The touch sent a spark of something through Ethan. Not so much sexual as just... love. Belonging. "They can't take you from me either," Rupert murmured, the words only adding to the feeling.

Ethan finally slid down in the bed, wrapping his arms around Rupert. "I suppose we better hold another meeting tomorrow, but for now, I just want to fall asleep with you."

"Good." He felt Rupert wrap his arms around him in return. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to knock you out to get you to rest."

Rupert felt warm and strong and very real beside him, not a symbolic comfort, but an actual one. Ethan yawned deeply. They'd worked hard tonight after the scrying and attack, and he hadn't even been able to take the usual pleasure in working magic with Rupert because it was too important to be relaxed about. It was very late, and the morning's alarm call seemed to loom all too near. Sleep had rarely been more welcome.

***

_He was lying in the middle of a forest clearing with his lover. The grass beneath them was soft, and the sun shining down on them was bright and warming. It was a bubble of peace that stretched out into the trees surrounding their little copse, but he knew it didn't go much further beyond what they could see._

_He knew that, beyond their immediate influence, the forest still was twisted by a dark malevolence, its claws scrabbling to get into their sanctuary. If he listened hard enough, he could hear its scritchings at their barrier._

_"It's inevitable, you know," his lover commented casually. "Barriers will be breached, the centre reached, the sentries overcome."_

_"Yes," he agreed, "but does it have to be now? It's so comfortable here."_

_"Time to go home."_

_A cloud passed over the sun, casting a dirty shadow where golden sunlight had dappled their bodies._

_"Yes," he said sadly. "Maybe you're right."_

_He looked up at the edge of the clearing. A door was there now, a portal. Its periphery was decorated with frolicking foxes and badgers._

_"See?" his lover said with a smile. "Our path comes calling."_

_"And we have to choose how to walk it," he replied, remembering. Somehow that made him feel better about going._

_They stood and walked towards the door, but his lover stopped him before he could walk through. "You're forgetting something."_

_He frowned, but then laughed softly. Reaching out, he took his lover's hand. "They can't take you from me."_

_His lover's smile practically shone. "Together then."_

_"Yes. Together." He took a deep breath, squeezed his lover's hand, and stepped through the doorway. From somewhere distant came the tinkling sound of breaking glass._

_The lift doors slid smoothly open, and they walked into a corridor. Underlit and bare of any ornamentation, it seemed to go for miles in either direction, unmarked doors leading off at regular intervals. "Which way now?" he asked, confused. This wasn't what he'd expected._

_His lover shrugged and pointed down the corridor. "Forward?"_

_They started walking, but he couldn't stop looking at the doors they were passing. They called to him. He couldn't stand not knowing what was behind them. Finally he stopped in front of one, unable to resist any longer._

_"What are you doing?" his lover asked, watching him reach for the doorknob._

_"I'll just take a quick look. I promise."_

_"Do you think that's a good idea? You might let something out." Even as his lover asked this, he handed him a key. Small and heavy, it appeared to be carved whole from emerald._

_"Better out than in," he answered, chuckling, and placed the key into the lock and turned._

_Something huge and hairy barrelled out through the door, knocking them both over, before it was gone in a flash of white fangs and red eyes._

_"Well, that was rude," he said, accepting the hand up his lover gave him._

_"It should have been kept on a muzzle," his lover agreed, looking into the now open room. "I think there's more in here."_

_He looked inside but shook his head. "It's just a cat that might not be there. We have to rescue the little girl before we can get to the happy ever after."_

_"Can't have that," said a strange voice from beneath them. He looked down to see a snake, grey with glinting eyes, weaving around their feet._

_His lover shook his head and bent down to pick the snake up by the neck. "You're not supposed to be here." He tossed the snake over his shoulder where it disappeared with a squawk. "It's always about the girl," his lover said. "There's just more of them now."_

_Over his lover's shoulder, he watched in horror as a man grew up from where the snake had vanished. The man smiled, and lateral eyelids closed briefly over his serpentine eyes. He wiped a small black feather from the corner of his mouth and held up an emerald key for them to see. "Looking for this?" asked the voice of the snake._

_"That's not yours," he said, feeling cold inside. "It won't work for you."_

_The snake man smiled coldly. "What makes you think it's going to work for you even if you have it? A key is no good if you don't know what lock it fits."_

_"The key is the solution," he answered, approaching the snake man slowly._

_"The key is nothing," the snake man replied and tipped his head back, opening his mouth and dangling the key over it. A forked tongue flickered out, tasting the stone._

_His lover moved up to stand beside him. "The key isn't yours. You'll be punished for touching it."_

_As the words left his lover's mouth, he could see that something was happening to the snake man. The snake man stiffened, eyes widening in surprise and pain. He jerked spasmodically and something sharp and yellow pierced his chest from the inside._

_As he and his lover watched and the snake man screamed, a large black-feathered bird tore its way out of the snake man's chest. With a triumphant caw, it took flight, ripping the key out of the snake man's hand._

_The key fell from the black bird's talons, tumbling down towards him. He held his hand up to catch it, but it stopped in mid tumble. Everything stopped. The scene froze. And a booming voice said loudly, "Wake up, you fools!"_


	7. Chapter 7

Ethan woke with a start. His hands had lifted in his sleep, his bandaged fingers clutching at air. Turning, he saw, in the dull light coming from the streetlamps outside, Rupert making the exact same futile gesture.

Opening his mouth to discuss what had obviously been another shared dream, Ethan froze as the smell hit him. Smell... sensation... something anyway. Something wrong. Fuck. "We're under attack." As soon as he said the words, the dogs started barking from Megan's room.

"I know." Rupert was already moving, rolling out of bed and grabbing his robe on the way over to the chest where he kept his personal weapons.

Ethan stumbled into his trousers, doing them up as he cautiously opened the door. Everything seemed quiet. Too quiet, and then he saw it. Oozing slowly up the stairs like thick black smoke came Chaos. Raw, lethal Chaos. "Rupert. Get Megan and the dogs out of here," he said urgently, flashback memories of the night on the tube train almost staggering him. Oh God. "Don't... don't let it touch you."

"On it," Rupert said, already heading down the hallway towards their Slayer's room. "Megan!"

He had to clear the stairs. Shutting his eyes, letting himself see only patterns, Ethan began to weave a defence against the Chaos, which now appeared to him as a writhing mass of tiny ebony snakes, slithering over each other in their eagerness to reach him, weaving and unweaving their thin bodies together.

He wove a tight-mesh net more or less from the air itself, from the possibilities of directions and decisions, and he pushed it against the snakes. Dimly, he heard his puppy barking. "Keep them back," he yelled and walked down two steps.

Footsteps came up behind him, stopping at the top of the stairs. He knew if he could spare the concentration to look, he'd see Rupert and Megan hovering, waiting for a target to fight.

Slowly, he forced the writhing mass further and further back, but it was hard and becoming harder. He was having to use everything he had just to make headway. When he reached the last few steps, he felt like weeping. The whole living room was smothered, alive with the squirming Chaos; the walls, even the ceiling in places, dripping with serpentine void.

After the magical drains of the scrying and protection spells, he was meant to deal with this? Where was a sodding storm when you needed one?

Rupert came down the steps behind him. "This isn't the way to fight." He rested a hand on Ethan's back, fingers tingling with magic. "We're stronger together."

"It... you can't... what if it touches you?"

"You can't fight this alone, Ethan. Let me bloody help!"

"I just have to get you to the door," he said weakly, but he knew he couldn't do it, knew Rupert was right. It was only a few feet through the lobby door and out the front, but it might as well have been miles. He couldn't walk another step. Not alone.

"We have to get us to the door," Rupert corrected, frustration and urgency making his voice sharp. "Now stop being so blasted stubborn about working alone!"

"All right," Ethan agreed, staggering back a step under the pressure. "But you mustn't touch it. Please, Rupert."

"I wasn't planning on touching it," Rupert said, reaching out and joining his magic with Ethan's with an almost audible internal click, the sudden boost in power stabilising the barrier he was holding. Rupert stepped down to the same step Ethan was standing on, holding his sword up in front of him, a sword that was glowing with their combined magic. "I thought I might slash it to ribbons, if that's permissible?"

Ethan said nothing, and really he wasn't thinking very much either. Letting instincts take over, he put his hand on Rupert's shoulder and extended his net again, wrapping it around all of them, the shield to Rupert's sword. They slowly made their way off the stairs and out into the living room, Rupert's sword cutting a large swathe through the writhing darkness as they moved.

"Megan, stay close," Ethan warned. "It mustn't touch you or the dogs."

He heard Megan's murmured assent as they continued their slow exodus. He let Rupert guide them. The sword sliced a way and the shield held it open. They only had to get through the lobby now. Ethan's attention was fully on his task of maintaining his shield, but still he was aware of how magnificent Rupert was, swinging his brightly shining sword with an implacable expression.

Then, almost suddenly, they were outside on the pavement, shivering in the winter's night. Ethan shoved the door shut, then slammed his shield over it, unsure if it was necessary, but refusing to take any chances. Then he relaxed enough to take a deep breath and look with pattern sense over the others, including the dogs. "Is everyone all right?" he asked, bending to lift Skunk into his arms, even now worried about the road.

Megan nodded, eyes wide as she stared back at their house. "Was that... What was that?"

"Chaos," Rupert answered before Ethan could. Gwydion was too large now to easily be picked up, but Rupert shifted his sword to his other hand and bent down to pet the dog's head, a soothing move for both of them.

"It was an attack," Ethan said darkly. "And it didn't come from thin air. Rupert..."

"Can you trace it?"

"Not exactly. Dark Chaos shows up within my sight as absence rather than presence, but... I think... Rupert, we need to do some fast and efficient breaking and entering."

Rupert nodded. "Right." He turned to their Slayer. "Megan, take the dogs and wait for us by the car."

"But–" she started.

Ethan put Skunk in her hands. "You can't help with this. I'm relying on you to keep the dogs safe." He didn't wait to see if she obeyed, but went straight to the door of their neighbours on the left. "If we're quick and quiet about this, the Opies, if innocent, may never know we've been inside. You take the lock; I'll do the alarm."

Rupert put his hand on the doorknob, closed his eyes and murmured in Latin. There was a quiet but definite click as the lock opened. "Feels almost like cheating doing it that way," Rupert said with a frown. "Should be going at it with just my picks and skill."

"Magic isn't cheating," Ethan murmured distractedly as he ensured the alarm system inside would be blind to their presence. "It's an artform."

"So's lockpicking."

"Alarm's off." Ethan stepped back enough to push the door open. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, "I can sense it, or at least can sense where nothing at all is."

He felt Rupert's hand come to rest against his back. "I'll follow your lead."

As they walked into the strange house, Ethan felt upstairs with his pattern senses, finding two sleeping bodies, the Opies. He tweaked just enough to ensure they were deep in sleep and unlikely to wake unless there was a lot of noise. The only other life of significance in the house was small and also upstairs, and Ethan was relatively certain that it was a cat.

He led Rupert into the front room, which wasn't too different from their own, albeit with a lot more purple and lilac. Rupert was silent as he followed, almost quite literally in Ethan's footsteps. He kept his hand on Ethan's back, a connection that helped anchor Ethan.

The Opies had a real fireplace, not a gas fire pretending to be coal like Rupert and Ethan had, and above it there was a mantelpiece, strewn with tacky porcelain. One piece, which to Ethan's normal sight was a thoroughly cringeworthy statue of an Edwardian coquette on a swing, within his pattern sight was merely a hole, a black area of nothingness. He pointed it out to Rupert. "Your sword?" he whispered.

With a grim smile, Rupert used his sword to knock the bit of porcelain to the floor, where it shattered quite satisfyingly. Ethan watched as the black void dissipated, leaving only broken china.

 _'That seemed to work,'_ he sent.

 _'That always was Buffy's solution,'_ Rupert replied. _'When in doubt, smash something.'_

Ethan made one last check around before sending, _'Let's get out of here. We need to do number fifteen as well.'_

 _'All right.'_ They retraced their steps back through the house and outside, where they carefully closed and relocked the Opies' door. The poor cat would undoubtedly get the blame for the broken porcelain, but that couldn't be helped.

They then headed to the house on the other side of theirs. Laying his hands flat on the front door, Ethan sensed through the wood. "There's no alarm... oh. Bugger it."

"What?"

"Whatshisname is awake and downstairs."

"Bugger," Rupert said with feeling. Then he took a deep breath and composed himself. "Well, it's not like this is the first time I've been in a situation when I have to lie my way into a place. Sunnydale was particularly good as a training ground for that." He glanced at Ethan. "You think you'd be able to tweak his pattern to make him more likely to believe?"

"If he's an innocent in this, yes."

"If he's not then we won't have to weave him a story. I'll just knock him on the head."

Ethan reached out and felt his way around the man's patterns. It would be easy enough to stop fear and aggression hormones spiking. "Ready," he murmured. Rupert nodded and knocked on the door.

 _'Hello,_ ' Ethan sent to Rupert as they waited. _'We're your mad gay neighbours, and we're knocking you up at 4 A.M. in this half-naked state in order to ask you if you'd consider reading this copy of the Watchtower...'_

 _'Do you want to do this?'_ Rupert sent back testily.

 _'No, dear.'_ Ethan tried to look suitably apologetic as the door opened. Whatshisname, a short middle-aged scouser who was almost certainly, in Ethan's opinion, an ex-soldier, was fully dressed and scowling. Ethan immediately tweaked the man's system to release endorphins and cease the flow of adrenaline.

When whatshisname said, "Do you know what time it is?" he sounded more confused than angry.

"Yes, I know the hour is definitely not civilised," Rupert said, all smooth and official sounding, all that practice in Council meetings no doubt. Although Ethan strongly doubted Rupert had ever chaired one of those in his bathrobe. "We apologise for disturbing you, Mr. Barnet, but we have a bit of a situation."

The man peered out into the street to see if anyone else was about. "What kind of situation?"

"It's rather embarrassing actually," Rupert said with a small smile. "Our ward has rather a penchant for exotic pets, spiders actually, and one of the more exotic of her collection seems to be missing. We fear it's got into the vents and may have made its way into your house."

The man frowned. "Tarantula?"

Rupert shook his head. "Scarlet widow. It's a rare and more deadly subspecies of the black widow. Quite poisonous."

"Don't you have to have a license for this sort of thing?" Mr Barnet asked, looking behind himself nervously as Ethan spiked the man's fear chemicals.

"Really, you need to let us in," Ethan said. "We know how to handle the species and where it's likely to be lurking. There is an antidote, of course, but I've heard it's almost worse than the bite."

"We'll be in and out quickly," Rupert assured him. "You won't even know we were here."

As Barnet stepped outside, his arms wrapped around himself for warmth, or perhaps for comfort, Ethan reached out and gripped the man's shoulder suddenly. "Just a second," Ethan said in a deadly serious tone. He made a big song and dance about looking over the man's hair and back. He could feel Barnet trembling slightly under the investigation. "You're clean. You'd better wait outside."

Ethan still had a slice of evil in him.

 _'You enjoyed that far too much,'_ Rupert sent drily as they stepped inside.

 _'Serves him right for the 'bloody poof' comment he thought I didn't hear the other day,'_ Ethan sent back, only feeling very slightly guilty.

This house had quite a different layout to their own and was austerely furnished. There was a heavy smell of stale tobacco.

This time the Chaos focus seemed to be one of those plastic-pretending-to-be-gold trophies that littered the shelves of blue-collar bachelors up and down Britain. Barnet had apparently won this one at a pub quiz before Christmas.

_'Not so easy to smash this one.'_

_'The thing about plastic,'_ Rupert sent, raising a hand toward the little trophy, _'is that given enough heat, it melts.'_ Aloud, he intoned, " _Aurum simulaire vis solaris senti._ "

Ethan watched the fake gold ooze over the stone base, the Chaos dissipating, just as it had from the smashed porcelain two doors down. _'Well, that's that then. The Chaos has gone; the threat's averted...'_ His mental tone hardened. _'Well, apart from the rather important fact that our enemies were able to get into these houses to hide their weapons in the first place.'_

 _'We're definitely going to have to reassess our defences,'_ Rupert agreed. _'But our place should be safe enough for the rest of the night at least.'_

Ethan rubbed his eyes. _'Possibly. I'll have to check over every inch of it before I'll be able to relax. Do you think our scrying spurred them into action tonight?'_

Rupert nodded. _'It's too much of a coincidence otherwise. We got too close.'_

 _'Rupert, we can't stay here. We're too vulnerable and...'_ Ethan sighed aloud. _'And we're putting civilians at risk, and I know how you'd feel if innocents, even that twat, Barnet, got hurt in the crossfire.'_

 _'This isn't the place to discuss it,'_ Rupert told him, resting a hand on Ethan's shoulder. _'Let's get back home and then we can have a war council.'_

Ethan nodded unhappily. _'If you appease Barnet and get Megan and the hounds, I'll start making absolutely sure the house is clean.'_

Rupert leant in and gave him a quick if heartfelt kiss. _'They attacked, and we beat them off. Again. Just remember that.'_

Smiling albeit weakly, Ethan nodded again. He followed Rupert out of Barnet's house, ignoring the man and heading straight back to their own, only to then remember he'd shut the door firmly, and he was half naked. _'Um, dearheart...?'_

Rupert was talking seriously with Barnet, but he glanced over his shoulder at Ethan, then smiled faintly. Ethan felt the small surge of Rupert's magic as the door in front of him clicked open. He left it ajar and went cautiously inside.

Wandering around the house, Ethan checked everywhere for signs of Chaos, but it was as if the writhing black serpentine mass had never been here. Their house was clean, but Ethan felt far from clean himself. That abhorrent mess had once been him. It had been in his every cell, poisoning him, allowing his anger to manifest in ever more deviant forms. And he'd welcomed it, invited it in, because he'd hated himself enough to think it fitting. Not that he would have phrased it like that at the time.

It made him sick to consider that treacly morass, that lack-of-substance which had nearly destroyed Rupert, had once been inside him. He couldn't help but feel somehow responsible for this attack. Yes, that made no logical sense, but still.

Having checked upstairs thoroughly, he began to check downstairs for a second time, knowing he was being neurotic, and that the sense of infestation came from inside him not from without, but unable to stop himself. Rupert would come in soon and calm him down, he could only hope.

Ethan was just coming out of the study when he saw the lobby door start to open, but it wasn't Rupert or Megan who came in. Somehow, though, seeing Ian Woodson come through that door wasn't surprising at all.

"Hello, old crow." Ethan said quietly, smiling as he walked over.

"Young fox," Ian replied in kind. "Did you have a pleasant evening of jumping on the hornet's nest?"

"Pleasant is not quite how I'd describe it," Ethan said drily, opening his arms to embrace his mentor. Ian hugged him back, but Ethan felt himself freeze as he looked over Ian's shoulder to spy Dawn.

He didn't ask what the girl was doing here. He knew. The dream had told them everything, or would have done, had they had time to consider it.

"Are you all right?" he asked her urgently and then turned back to Ian. "Both of you."

Ian nodded. "They weren't expecting me."

Dawn looked shaken, but trying to hide it. She was doing a pretty good job of holding it together, but Ethan thought that the wrong word or action could cause her to shatter.

"Come and sit down. The house is clean of nastiness." He didn't let any doubt into his tone. Mentally, he sent to Rupert, _'Ian's here. With Dawn. Did you see them? The dream...'_

He received wordless acknowledgement from Rupert, and it seemed like only a second or two before Rupert was coming in the door with Megan and the dogs at his heels.

"What happened?" Rupert asked, looking from Ian to Dawn and back again.

The question seemed to break through Dawn's thin resolve. She was up off the couch and into Rupert's arms in a heartbeat. "It was Doc," she said, looking up at Rupert with wide, frightened eyes. "The guy who cut me for Glory." Which meant little to Ethan, but it clearly did to Rupert who looked alarmed and a little haunted by the news.

Ethan patted Megan on the shoulder, trying to give her some reassurance in these disturbing circumstances. They shared equally weak smiles.

"I'm going to put the kettle on," he announced suddenly. "With apologies for being an English cliché, I think a cup of tea each will help restore some sense of normality for us all." As he walked to the kitchen, he gave Ian a pointed look, inviting his mentor to come and talk with him.

Sure enough, Ian followed him into the kitchen. Ethan pushed the door shut, although not before Skunk had slipped in after him.

He picked up his puppy. "Met the familiar?" he asked Ian with a slightly embarrassed wink.

Ian smiled faintly as he held out a hand for Skunk to sniff. "You've certainly gathered quite the menagerie about yourself."

Ethan gave him a wry look before putting Skunk down and turning to fill the kettle. "Yes, it worries me at times. So they tried to... what? Kidnap Dawn? Kill her?"

Ian gave a typically obtuse answer. "If you don't want certain locks to be opened, you destroy the key."

"I knew it," Ethan muttered. He switched the kettle on and turned to face Ian. "Keri was able to warn you? Are you sure you're all right?" He let his senses run over Ian's body, not really caring if the older man took offence, although he didn't think he would.

There were no wounds, obvious or otherwise, but Ethan could tell that Ian had used far more of himself than he was letting on.

"Do I pass muster?" Ian murmured with a raised eyebrow.

Ethan nodded with a small self-effacing smile. "If the student is allowed to congratulate the teacher, well done."

"You have grown certain of yourself, haven't you?" It was said without heat, but with affection.

"It's more I'm discovering a new side to myself," Ethan admitted, putting it into words for the first time. "The menagerie is part of it. I..." He gave Ian a look of embarrassed humour. "I mother." The verb bothered him so he carried on quickly. "Will you tell me the nature of the attack on Dawn?"

Ian pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Physical. My opposite number is rather enamoured with things that are sharp and pointy."

"Human?"

"Oh no." Ian smiled, and it wasn't a pretty one. "Although he may have been once, a very long time ago, and still would appear so to unknowing eyes."

"Dead now?" Ethan spooned tea into the pot, some of the powdery leaves sticking to the bandages on his fingers.

"Not even close." It was very clear this was a sticking point with Ian.

"Bugger. I don't suppose you're ready to tell us more about what's going on? We had another dream tonight." He frowned, remembering. "Some of it was obviously about you and Dawn, but some of the rest is perplexing."

"I will be ecstatic to offer you my viewpoint on your dream," Ian said, glancing around him, "but I think at the moment our energies would be best used at regrouping and coming up with a safe haven."

"I was giving Rupert a chance to calm Dawn," Ethan said with a shrug, turning back to the counter and stacking a tray with mugs.

"I know." Ian sighed. "I guess our young Key is not the only one who is a bit jumpy." It was an apology of sorts.

The kettle clicked and turned itself off. Ethan turned and gave Ian a rueful smile before filling the pot. He lifted the loaded tray. "Well, hopefully that's long enough for now." He nodded at the door. "After you." Ian gave a mock little bow before heading back into the living room.

Dawn and Rupert were on the sofa. Her face was tear-stained and his arm was around her. Megan was perched on the arm of one of the chairs, looking uncomfortable, Giddy lying at her feet. Ethan put the tray down on the coffee table and knelt stiffly down beside it. "How does everyone want their tea?"

Dawn gave a watery giggle. "You're so... English."

"There are any number of sound psychological and physiological reasons why tea, and the ritual of tea, is good at a time like this," Ethan replied implacably. "Take a perch, Ian," he added. Ian obeyed, a slight smile on his face, although Ethan found it easy to perceive the tension and worry the man still felt.

Ethan poured tea for everyone, even Dawn, guessing that she'd like it sweet. They all watched him in silence as he filled and handed out the cups, and he had to repress some totally inappropriate giggles in reaction to the atmosphere in the room. Settling down in the chair that Megan was leaning upon, he surveyed them all. Everyone was still looking at him. "Oh, come now, I'm hardly the best suited to chair this emergency session... and anyway, shouldn't Xander be here?"

"I'm thinking we may not have time to gather the troops before decisions are made...?" Rupert said with a questioning glance at Ian.

"You may be right at that," Ian admitted.

Ethan frowned and swallowed down fear. "The house is clean. Really, it is. And the foci destroyed. You think they may try a more direct attack tonight?"

Ian cocked his head to the side, obviously considering. "I don't know. It should take a while for them to organise enough to do so." He gave a ghost of a smile. "Organisation is not one of their strong suits."

Ethan's frown deepened, his forehead pulling tight. "Maybe not before. Now they have one of Order's finest minions on their side."

"'Finest' may be stretching the point a bit," Rupert put in. "But yes, there are alliances forming on all sides."

"Most enthusiastic then." Ethan stood again, swigging his hot tea down and hardly noticing it. "So, if the situation is potentially this urgent, why pray, are we sitting here having a pleasant tea party?"

"Because it's better to have a direction before we start running," Ian said.

Megan put a hand on his arm and tugged until he looked down at her. "Ethan?"

He gave her a weak smile and sat back down. Skunk jumped up on his lap, and Ethan cuddled his dog distractedly. "A hotel then? Or Council HQ? Where we can have a proper meeting?"

"Unless there's an attack imminent here in the next hour...?" Rupert asked, looking questioningly at Ian who shook his head. "We should be able to slow down and take this one step at a time, but definitely, high on the list should be a new base of operations."

Rupert seemed to be gathering himself up to take control of the impromptu meeting. Gratefully, Ethan sank back into the cushions and let Rupert do what he was best at.

"It's obvious that this place, despite our best attempts at warding, is too enclosed for adequate defence." Rupert paused to take a sip of his tea. "We should assume, given Francesca's defection, that any other Council property would fall prey to the same sort of vulnerabilities. She knows them too well. We need somewhere that wouldn't be in Council records with all its weaknesses listed in all their glory. Preferably somewhere that there aren't so many opportunities for them to use and endanger innocents, which leaves out most, if not all, of London."

"Devon?" Megan suggested. "It's out in the countryside, plus lots of really powerful witchy types." She smiled shyly at Ian.

Ian returned the smile, but shook his head. "They have their own problems right now."

Rupert frowned. "Problems?"

"Nothing for you to worry over," Ian told him. "I think you have enough on your plate already, don't you? Best see to that before eyeing others' meals."

Even as the more overt tension in his muscles relaxed, Ethan was becoming aware of a small tight ball of strain inside of him. Their wonderful idyll was falling apart, everyone he cared about was in danger and... "Rupert and I should go somewhere alone. Or perhaps keep moving so as not to be sitting ducks."

"Because of course they wouldn't go after anybody else to draw you out," Ian all but drawled, glancing pointedly at Dawn.

"Ian's right," Rupert agreed. "We don't want to leave any targets. When we go... wherever we're going, everyone comes."

"So they can lay siege to us?" Ethan covered his face with his hands and rubbed hard. "Great idea," he muttered.

"Ethan, I'm your Slayer." Megan's voice, hurt yet strong. "You don't run out on me when things get tough, you use me."

"No," he said stubbornly, refusing even to think about it.

"The trick," Rupert put in before Megan could argue, "is to make sure it doesn't come to that."

"What about me?" Dawn asked with shaky bravado. "Where do I go?"

"You stay with us, I'm afraid," Ethan answered, looking up from his hands and giving her a sympathetic look. "I am sorry."

"We'll keep you safe," Rupert promised, smiling at the girl.

Ethan knew, knew deep inside, that that was a promise they shouldn't make blithely... and yet, somehow, he knew that they were the only ones qualified to make that promise at all currently. Looking at Ian, their eyes meeting briefly, Ethan could see his mentor knew these things too. He frowned and looked down at his damaged hands.

Megan shifted beside him. "Well, if Devon is out, and London is out, where does that leave us?"

Ethan could pinpoint the exact second that Rupert came up with the answer. He swore he could see the idea come into Rupert's eyes. With a faint smile, Rupert said, "I believe I may have just the place." He looked across the room and met Ethan's gaze. "You've said you wanted to see the Giles estate where I grew up..."

Oh. That was certainly an idea. "You said there was a cousin of indeterminate gender?"

"Oh, Matthew is determinately male," Rupert replied with a bit of a smile. "If a bit... mundane, but the estate has generations of protections upon it, and Matthew knows about the family business even if he's never been a part of it. He won't have any problems with us staying there."

Ethan nodded slowly. He had to admit to some curiosity about the place, and it did seem quite apposite under the circumstances. "Who's coming with us?"

"I am," Megan said firmly.

"Yes, dear, you are." Ethan patted her leg. When he let go more or less of the incipient panic, he had to agree that they were stronger united than divided.

"Xander," Rupert said. "And Pamela, at least to keep contact with Headquarters for us." He frowned and looked at Ian. "Should we take Kat as well or leave her at Devon?"

"Her path, I believe, is with us during this." Ian paused. "And yes, that means I'll be coming with."

Now that news did surprise Ethan, although perhaps it shouldn't have, considering their dream. He gave Ian a searching look and sent to Rupert. _'I know other things are more urgent right now, but we do very much need to discuss our shared dream earlier.'_ Aloud, he said only, "Yes, Kat is part of this pattern."

"Right then," Rupert said, putting his teacup down. "It's decided. We should pack what we're taking with us and get out while we can. I'll contact the others while we're on the road."

Ethan thought about the size of the BMW's boot, the amount of luggage they were likely to generate even packing quickly, and the number of people and dogs to transport. "Ian, please tell me you came with a car of your own."

"I hardly flew here with Dawn on my back," Ian replied gruffly. "I'm parked outside."

He nodded and thought out loud. "Xander can fetch Kat from Devon. Pammy has her own car. Even so, I suggest we all pack light."

Of course, that didn't mean he was going to leave a single one of his Christmas presents behind.

**Author's Note:**

> So very many thanks go to Wesleysgirl and mpoetess for staunch and reliable betaing.


End file.
